


All is Full of Love

by Hildigunnur



Series: Love and Things [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Hogwarts Era, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: From Diagon Alley to Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-09
Updated: 2005-10-09
Packaged: 2018-10-26 13:04:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10787274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hildigunnur/pseuds/Hildigunnur
Summary: There's plenty of romance budding, George has to deal with a secret admirer and Marcus Flint has a evil plan. Sequel to At the Eve of Things.





	1. Quidditch Romance

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015.
> 
> Originally posted in 2002 and 2003. Written during the four year long summer. What an innocent time. Beta-ed by Zsenya.

“Let’s have it for the Quidditch Captain!” Lee Jordan stood in front of the Weasley twins, who were carrying Harry on their shoulders. The whole Gryffindor common room erupted in cheers. Gryffindor had just beaten Hufflepuff in an exciting Quidditch game where Harry had to do his best to beat the Hufflepuff Seeker, Roseanne Parkins, to the Golden Snitch. Ron had proved himself as the Keeper, the twins had been merciless with the Bludgers and Katie, Alicia and Angelina had scored plenty of points with the Quaffle.

George was feeling particularly ecstatic, for his training with the team had been going very badly until two weeks ago. The reasons for that were unpleasant for him to ponder. It had been a grim thing, involving a Death Eater and a scheme which would have resulted in his death, had it worked. At least, he now could take his mind off that and celebrate with his fellow Gryffindors. It had been the right decision to make Harry the Captain, he had been firm to the team but he’d never tried to boss them around. 

“I think it's time to bring out our new invention,” Fred whispered into George’s ear. In their pockets were a few prototypes of something they called Balloon Biscuits. Fred had got the idea some time ago when they had heard about Harry blowing up his Aunt Marge. It had been hard to find the right potion to make the desired effect. When they had tried to make the biscuits taste sweet, the Puffing Potion tended to lose its effects. Then it had worked when they had the brilliant idea to add honey to the potion. Now they only had to find a plate to put the biscuits on, place it with all the food that had been nicked for the party and wait for someone to take a bite and start to float around.

They just had placed the plate on the food table when Hermione walked up to them. 

“What are you two doing?” she asked, eyeing them suspiciously. That girl can be too perceptive sometimes, George thought. He felt that a distraction was in order.

“Oh, just thinking about how I’m going to pay you for saving my life,” he said in casual voice and looked at Hermione with a look that he hoped would convey honesty. She raised an eyebrow and Fred obviously had a hard time not laughing out loud, judging by the way he was shaking.

“And how do you hope to do that? I hope those biscuits aren’t my reward,” she said and put her hands on her hips. 

“No, no! We were thinking about something else,” Fred said with a grin. He put his hand under Hermione’s and steered her to a remote corner of the common room. George followed them.

“You see, we've noticed something for a while. Certain sparks flying, red ears and quick glances,” Fred said in his nonchalant tone. Hermione blushed, which cause George to grin. 

“We also wanted to know if you were in fact available,” he added and grinned more when he saw Hermione’s frightened expression. 

“Yes, our last experience with a girl didn’t go well so we decided to find one we could share and could handle being with two very able young men. You, my dear, are the obvious choice. You handled both Viktor Krum and Harry Potter, so the two of us shouldn’t be a problem.” It was amazing that Fred could keep a straight face while delivering this little speech. Hermione’s eyes were wide with horror but then she relaxed her shoulders and started giggling.

“You are awful,” she said, “but what is it you want? I’m not going to turn a blind eye to rule breaking if that’s ...” 

“No, no. We are just inquiring if you are indeed seeing Mr Krum,” George cut in and Hermione seemed to be surprised. 

“No, I’m not seeing him, but what is that to you?” she asked in an indignant tone, “I hope Ron didn’t put you up to this. He’s always inquiring about Viktor and because he’s being such a prat about it, I haven’t told him that Viktor and I aren’t a couple.”

“Actually Ron hasn’t said a word about this to us and we aren’t surprised. Why do you think he pesters you with these questions about Krum?” George hoped that Hermione had already realized this. She didn’t say anything, just chewed her lip.

“Maybe because he fancies you,” Fred said, slyly. Hermione gasped and turned on her heel, mumbling something about getting the first years to bed. George looked at Fred and they couldn’t help but grin. Ron and Hermione only needed a bit of a nudge to get on right track.

“I don’t think we have to worry about them, they'll wake up,” George said, “another matter with you though.” Fred rolled his eyes.

“Haven’t I told you that I don’t want to rush into anything with Angelina? Just think, I’ve probably hurt her very much with Eve.”

“Why don’t you ask her? You are in love with her and don’t try to deny it. I’m your twin, remember? I know when you’re not telling the truth.” George used a firm tone with Fred. 

“I can’t just go up to her and say: ‘Hey, Angelina. I really like you. I hope you’re not mad about the Eve business. Let’s snog!’ She'd slap me.” 

“Go to her now and ask her to go for a walk or something. I won’t talk to you until you’ve snogged her.” George turned away from his brother and engaged in a game of Exploding Snap with the Creevey brothers. He watched Fred from the corner of his eye. Fred just stood there for a while but finally he walked over to Angelina and said something to her. She got up and the two of them disappeared through the portrait hole. It was just then that the deck of cards exploded in George’s face, nearly singeing his eyebrows.

When Fred hadn’t returned an hour later, George went up to his dormitory. He wasn’t going to go to sleep because he knew that Fred would have something to say when he returned. By now, it looked like whatever that would be, it wouldn’t be something Fred would want the whole common room to hear. He sat on his bed, picking up a book called The Galleonaire’s Guide to Grandeur. It was one of those stupid books on how to make loads of money fast. They had been reading many of those, hoping to learn how to build a business but most of those stories seemed to be about men who had had the upper hand in dealing with the goblins. George didn’t believe one of them, the goblins were very insidious and would never enter any bargain if they weren’t sure of profit. 

Suddenly an owl came flying into the room. It was one of the school’s barn owls and it was carrying a letter to George. When the owl had landed on his bed, George extracted the letter off its foot. This was no ordinary letter, George’s jaws dropped when he read it:

 

Dear George,

I can’t longer deny my feelings for you. I watch you every day, waiting for your pranks but mostly, I just watch you. Your laughter is delightful, your grin is dead sexy and I just die when I look at your mischievous eyes. Sometimes I have hard time controlling myself for I really want to touch your upper arm and feel your muscles. They certainly show when you fold your arm like you always do. Please, don’t think I only like you for your physical appearance; your inner man is fascinating too and especially your humour. I like to think I know how you feel for we are two of a kind. 

With all my love, 

your secret admirer.

 

Who had sent this? George wondered if this was a joke. The writing was unfamiliar, but very feminine and the "i's" were accentuated with little hearts. Fred or Lee Jordan would never be able to fake this writing. One of the girls in the Quidditch team could have but their ideas of jokes were different. He recalled what Alicia had whispered to him earlier that evening, something about she wanted have him between her thighs more than any broomstick but that had been after he had compared her breasts to a couple of Quaffles. It was always in good fun, especially when someone like Harry witnessed it. Usually he went red but then joined in the laughter. If that letter had been written by any of the Gryffindor Chasers, it would have at least contained a dirty limerick. He turned the letter over to see if he could find any indication who had sent it on the back. There was none, only his name written in the same loopy hand that had written the letter. Who could have sent this?

 

~~~~

 

Fred knew that George was right. He was just torturing himself with not telling Angelina how he felt. She was there talking to Katie, Harry and Ron and they were all laughing about something. It wasn’t like she was a stranger to him. He swallowed and walked up to the group.

“Hey, Fred! It was kind of harsh sending the Bludger with such force after that second year Hufflepuff Chaser.” Ron was smirking.

“Well, I couldn’t trust you to prevent him to score,” Fred retorted and directed his focus to Angelina who was laughing merrily over their exchange. “Angelina, can I have a word?” he whispered to her. She looked a bit surprised but nodded and rose from her seat. Fred didn’t fail to notice the grins on Katie’s, Harry’s and Ron’s faces. 

“Could we go for a walk?” he asked. 

Fred searched his mind to find a good place where he could tell her how he felt. It would be best to take a stroll outside, the weather wasn’t so cold. He started to descend the stairs and she followed. They were uncharacteristically silent.

“Good game,” was the best he could come up with to break the silence. 

“Yeah,” was her only answer. Oddly, that made Fred feel better, for she sounded as nervous as he was. Maybe she still liked him, his heart was beating faster. He was now unable to think of anything further to say. This felt so strange, never before had he been speechless around Angelina or any other girl for that matter. Not even Eve, oh, best not to think about her. Angelina was looking shyly at him and he felt he was blushing. What was happening to him? He couldn’t remember being hit with a Bludger at the match but he felt like he had been.

They were outside now, the gravel in the courtyard gnashing under their feet. Without thinking, they were walking towards the Quidditch pitch. Just before they started making their way up the hill where the stands were situated, Fred pulled Angelina’s arm.

“There is something I've got to tell you,” he said and felt it would be best to tell her right away. “I really like you ... I ... I think I love you.” What?!? His brain came to a halt, had he just said he loved her? I’m losing it, he thought and she’ll think it too. He closed his eyes. That way he didn’t have to watch her running away, screaming. Suddenly, he felt light touch on his arm. She was still there. His eyes flew open and he looked at her, a very gentle smile was playing on her lips.

“So, have I messed things up completely or what?” Maybe this smile of hers was to ridicule him. Why had he blurted out that he loved her? He had stopped acting like himself around her. Her mere presence seemed to cloud his rational thinking. She stood there completely still which was very unlike the energetic Angelina he was used to. What was she waiting for? Fred suddenly closed his eyes, he was being a complete idiot. She was waiting for him to kiss her. He drew a deep breath, stepped closer to her and put an arm around her waist. With his eyes closed, he leaned in and hoped to find his lips connect with hers quickly. It felt like he had been hit with a curse when their lips met but this was no curse, it was like he had been filled with stars and rainbows. How could a little kiss be so incredible? Her hands were now around his neck, he pulled her closer to him and soon he felt like there was nothing existing besides their kiss.

Somehow they had moved from a vertical position to a horizontal one. Fred was busy with freeing Angelina from her cloak and soon they had discarded various items of their clothing. The October chill had no effect on them and they would have continued what they were doing for much longer if they hadn’t heard a dog bark.

“Oy, Fang. No, ther’ aren’t any rabbits. Come ‘ere,” they heard as soon as a big boarhound came running towards them. Fred jerked away from Angelina who started buttoning her blouse. They looked at each other and grinned, shamefaced. 

Fang seemed overjoyed to find Fred and was licking his face so he had troubles putting his jumper back on. Angelina was giggling madly. 

“So, you’re em rabbits Fang wanted to find,” Hagrid appeared and raised his eyebrows when he saw Fred and Angelina. “I should give you two detention,” he said and chuckled, “but if you two go straight back to the castle, I ... err ... only saw em rabbits.” Fred knew it would be best to do as Hagrid said. He was in no mood to serve any detention.

They made their way back to the castle. Angelina took Fred’s hand and laced their fingers together. This feels nice, Fred thought, just like it should be. 

“Fred,” Angelina sounded timid and it made him feel funny, “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything when you said that you ...” She hesitated and before he could think any further, he had said, “that I love you, right?” He felt the heat rise up his cheeks.

“Yes, and I want you to know that I ... err ... feel the same.” He felt her hand twitch and he squeezed it reassuringly. This was so strange to him, this hadn’t been that way with Eve. There were no thoughts about love then, just that feeling that he had to have her. Probably effects of the spell Eve had cast over him. On the other hand, everything with Angelina felt sincere. Maybe true love, he thought and tightened his grip of Angelina’s hand. 

“So, how do you think the others will take this?” she asked as they walked up the steps to the castle. 

“I know that George and Lee will say, ‘About time you two got it together.’ Lee has been on my case about since the start of this term and George since things ... err... went back to normal between us.” He didn’t want to bring Eve up now. She was nothing but a bad memory to him.

“Katie and Alicia will say the same, I reckon. I hope you don’t mind, but they were egging me to make a move on you while you were still seeing Eve,” she grinned and Fred saw she had herself been thinking seriously about doing that. 

“Really?” he replied, “though I’m glad you didn’t. Eve wouldn’t have reacted well to someone interrupting her designs. She was truly evil and please, don’t talk about her more but I’m sorry if it hurt you, me being with her.”

“It wasn’t your fault, so no need for you to be sorry,” said Angelina. They had arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady. Fred couldn’t resist, he stepped aside from the portrait and pulled Angelina with him. She understood what he wanted. This time, their kiss was sweeter and felt more familiar. It was like this was the first one of countless similar kisses he would receive for the rest of his life and he looked forward to every single one of them.

Fred didn’t feel like he was walking up to his dormitory, he was levitating. How on earth was he supposed to go to sleep? He would be awake all night think about Angelina, how it felt to kiss her and touch. 

He entered the dormitory and saw George and Lee engrossed in some letter, they looked up as he walked over to them.

“So, you and Angelina?” Lee asked, George didn’t say anything but Fred knew he 

wanted to know. 

“Yeah, we’re on,” he said with a grin and threw himself on his bed, “what are you two reading?”

“Oh, someone fancies our George,” said Lee and smirked, “it’s from a secret admirer.”

“Really, sure it isn’t just a mix-up? Some confused girl who thinks you’re me?” Fred couldn’t resist teasing George, who looked rather serious.

“Nah, man. This is about George. She knows he folds his arm, you never do,” said Lee as he handed Fred the letter. Fred read the letter and started laughing, “we can rule out Katie and Alicia, they’d invite you to an orgy.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” said George finally, “is it just ... is it a joke or not?”

“‘Feel your muscles.’ Oh, please, that’s so lame. Either this is some girly girl or the Hufflepuffs taking their revenge. But if you get more letters, we have to investigate.” Fred handed George the letter back to George.

“Yeah, I’m going to brush my teeth,” said George and got up.

Two minutes later he came back with a red rose in his hand and said with asperity, “I found this in the bathroom.” There was a note attached to the rose and Fred reached for it.

“‘ To G.W. I want to be your rose. XXX, your secret admirer.’” He read and handed the note back to George.

“We have to investigate this,” Lee said, “if this is joke, we bloody well can’t have someone playing with us and if this is for real, we got to find out who this girl is.” George nodded and Fred started thinking about plans.

“This has to be dealt with carefully, I think it would be hard for any of us to spy. We need someone inconspicuous,” Fred said and rubbed his chin.

“Yeah, preferably a girl and I do believe we’re dealing with a Gryffindor here since the rose was left in the bathroom,” said George, “but who could we get to help us? Not the girls in the team, they would just tease me endlessly. Hermione would never agree to this but ... Ginny, we have to ask Ginny.”

“She’s perfect for it, you’re right,” Fred replied excited, “that little imp can sneak where no one dares to sneak. The only Weasley who has never been caught with her hand in the biscuit tin, yet had crumbs all over her dress. ” Lee chuckled but agreed with the twins that bringing Ginny into this would be a good idea. Agent Ginny Weasley would be on the tail of the secret admirer in no time.


	2. Eavesdropping

Harry gritted his teeth. It was typical that when Snape assigned individual Potions essays, he would make sure that Harry got the most difficult subject. The Development of Slow Acting Venoms before 1500 AD. It meant that the bibliography of the essay would consist mostly of some old, dusty manuscripts that were buried in the farthest realms of the Restricted Section. Harry felt his brain was clogged up with the dust from the manuscripts after he had been pouring over them for three hours. He decided to stand up and find a nice book on Quidditch.

He walked down the aisle where the books on sports were kept and was about to reach after Sheer Dumb Luck or Most Brilliant Move: the Finer Points of the Plumpton Pass when he noticed a girl. She seemed to be watching something around the corner where she was standing. The winter sun was shining through the window so he only saw her silhouette, but her curves were certainly showing, even though she was wearing her school robes. His eyes travelled down her body, he couldn’t but notice that she had a very nice figure. He swallowed and looked away, feeling uneasy. Then the girl turned so the sun shone through her hair, revealing its brilliant red, golden and scarlet shades. Harry suppressed a gasp, it was Ginny Weasley. He had been look at his best friend’s little sister’s ... No, he couldn’t think this thought any further but his mind betrayed him, Ginny’s curvy silhouette was stuck in his mind. He sighed very loudly, which caused her to turn towards him and, to Harry’s surprise, she brought her finger to her lips as to tell him to keep quiet. Now his attention was diverted to her lips, which were red and full. He closed his eyes in frustration, he had to get his mind off Ginny. She wasn’t taking much notice of him, she was busy surveying something else. Harry became a bit curious and walked passed Ginny to see what she was watching. It was something that made him take few steps backwards.

“Hey, watch it,” she whispered as Harry bumped into her, “I would appreciate it if the Ravenclaw girls wouldn’t see me watching them.” It was indeed few Ravenclaw girls that Ginny was watching and among them was Cho Chang, a girl who Harry had had a huge crush on.

Harry felt like he wouldn’t be able to control his vocal chords if he would replied. He just nodded and then he heard the Ravenclaws’ conversation.

“You can’t deny it, athletic boys are generally better looking than others. Roger Davies is the best looking Ravenclaw and he’s the Quidditch Captain. Just look at the Gryffindor Quidditch team, the Weasleys are really fit,” said a blonde girl whom Harry had seen before in Cho’s group of friends.

“I miss Oliver Wood, he is so handsome,” said a brunette who was sitting next to Cho. There were few sighs that Harry took as agreements to the statement about Wood.

“But then there's the Slytherin team, I don’t find any of them very attractive,” said a girl with short, mousy hair.

“What about Draco Malfoy?” asked the blonde, “he’s all right.”

“You only like him because he has money, give me a Weasley any day,” said the mousy one.

“Then there's Harry Potter, he’s really cute. He seemed to be into you, Cho,” the brunette said and turned to Cho, who had been silent throughout the conversation.

“Cecily! Watch what you're saying," said the blonde girl, turning towards her friend, "leave her alone!"

“Andrea, it was you who started talking about handsome, athletic boys and you know who was just like that,” the brunette answered back. Cho cleared her throat and the girls stopped quibbling.

“I don’t mind you talking about boys, athletic and not.” Cho said quietly. "Harry is a sweet boy, but seeing him always reminds me of ... that day." Cho’s voice was low but clear. Harry felt cold in the heart for he understood what she meant. She blamed him for Cedric's death. He pressed himself up against the bookshelf, he felt queasy. Ginny was regarding him with a concerned look. Then she took his hand and pulled him with her.

“Harry, come. We need to talk,” she said.

She dragged him along the aisles of the library and into the History of Magic section where she obviously thought they could be uninterrupted.

“Harry,” she said in very grave voice, “you understand that Cho doesn’t blame you for Cedric’s death.” Harry couldn’t say anything, he just swallowed. How did she know that he was just thinking about that? 

“I mean, you were there when he died so it isn’t strange she associates you with it but I do believe she doesn’t blame you. I wouldn’t, I know just how evil Voldemort is,” Ginny was pacing in front of him with her arms crossed. Harry watched her and he couldn’t help but marvel at her attitude. Where was the little girl who used to blush and run away when she saw him? Ginny seemed have transformed into a very determined young woman and something in Harry’s mind added, a very attractive one too. He panicked at this thought and saw that Ginny was regarding him with a pensive look on his face.

“It won’t do being afraid of one’s shadow when we are facing an enemy whose wickedness is known to us both.” It was like there was some internal fire in her eyes and Harry just nodded.

“Good,” she said and turned around to leave but he reached out to stop her.

“Ginny, why were you listening to the Ravenclaw girls?” He was curious.

“Oh, it's a secret but ... you might be able to help me if you promise not to tell anyone, not even Ron or Hermione.” Her lips formed a playful smile.

“Ok,” he said without hesitation, “I won’t tell them.” He was a bit surprised at his own audacity, it was seldom he kept something from his two best friends.

“You see, I’m spying for the twins. It seems like George has got himself a secret admirer and they really want to find out who it is. They thought it would be a good idea to get me to help them. That’s why I was eavesdropping on the Ravenclaws. George thinks it’s a Gryffindor though." Harry couldn’t help but chuckle - who would secretly admire George?! Ginny was looking at him again and said, “you promise not to tell.” With that she was gone and Harry watched her storm out of view. He let out a loud breath, which, he realised, he had been holding during his whole conversation with Ginny. Watching her was like watching something new and exciting but yet somehow eerie familiar. 

 

~~~~

 

Ginny ran all the way up to her dormitory. Her heart was beating very fast and it wasn’t because of the running. Harry had been talking to her, she had held his hand ... his hand. The hand of the boy whom she had loved for all these years. She could still sense the hand, the skin was surprisingly smooth, considering that he played Quidditch. None of her brothers had such smooth hands, not even Percy. 

Ginny buried her face in her pillow and felt like she would never be calm again. Why had she asked him to help her? She wouldn’t be able to think straight around him, she never did. She had often fantasised about talking to Harry about Cedric's death and be the one to comfort him. It wasn't something she expected to happen. But today, she had not thought about herself, or her nervousness, or her crush – only of him. He had looked like he was going to be sick and she just had to say something. And the twins weren't going to be happy if they found out that she'd let Harry in on the secrect.

There could be a problem if he was going to help her, she might not be able to concentrate. She wasn't sure for how long she had liked him, first she had liked the idea of him. A small child that defeated an evil wizard. Then he had become real and he was her brother's best friend. She remembered the talks she used have with her mum about Harry. 'He's just a normal boy like your brothers. He was of course raised by Muggles so there are things about him that might be odd but I reckon that all in all he's just a normal boy.' When her mother had said that, Ginny thought that her mother was being silly. Harry Potter was the Boy Who Lived and he couldn't be a normal boy. 

Harry's time at the Burrow before Ginny's first year at Hogwarts had taught her a lot about him. Her mother was right, he was just like her brothers in his love for Quidditch, pranks and stuff like that, but he was also quieter, more pensive. She had been quick to realise that he didn't like attention very much. Then again, it had taken her time to see that he was an introverted person and still so unsure of himself that even stupid Valentines mortified him. Now she hoped he had forgotten all about her crush and believed her to have grown out of it. The problem was of course that she hadn’t, it never had been a simple crush, she had been in love with Harry all along. 

Ginny had been lying on her bed for hours and it was way past dinnertime, but she hadn’t noticed. Her mind was still racing about her meeting with Harry. She wanted to confide in someone, not her dorm mates even though she was on excellent terms with them. Maybe Hermione, they had had a few intimate talks. 

A gentle knock on the door interrupted Ginny’s train of thought.

“Hi, why weren’t you at dinner?” Hermione asked as she entered the dormitory.

“Oh, I just lost track of time,” said Ginny as she sat up.

“What were you doing?” Hermione sat beside Ginny.

“Just thinking,” Ginny replied and realised that this could her chance to confide in someone. “You see, I met Harry at the library today.” Hermione nodded. “We heard Cho Chang say that Harry would always remind her of Cedric’s death and I just went and said something really stupid.”

“What, that you liked him?” Hermione whispered.

“No, then I’d have thrown myself off the Astronomy Tower. I told him that he shouldn’t blame himself for Cedric’s death, no one blamed him. Then I pretty much told him that it didn’t do to dwell on one’s pain when the Dark Lord had risen. How could I be so stupid?” Ginny buried her face in her palms.

“Ginny, listen to me. I think that you said the exactly right things to Harry. Maybe he’ll open his eyes now and see you for yourself.” Hermione’s tone of voice was firm.

“I’m afraid he thinks I’m interfering in his personal life. He’s a very private person.”

“I know he’s a very private person but he has to know there are people who care about him and understands. I want to him realise you aren’t just a little girl who idolizes him for his fame. Just be his friend, talk to him.” 

“Easier said then done. Do you know how it feels to have your stomach do gymnastics whenever a certain boy looks in your direction?” Ginny couldn’t help but notice that Hermione blushed.

“I know what you're talking about, Ginny,” she said with a strain in her voice. Ginny couldn’t help but feel a bit mischievous.

“Oh, who has stolen the heart of Hermione? Is it the world famous Seeker or is it someone else? Someone you tell off everyday?”

“Shut up. You know that Viktor and I are just very good friends and ... and ... oh, Ginny... why do I have these stupid feelings for that stupid brother of yours? I mean, he's only just recently noticed that I’m a girl.” Hermione threw herself back on the bed in frustration.

“Oh, you haven’t sent him a ridiculous Get-Well card yet so you don’t have to worry. I know he likes you, he likes you a lot. He went mad once when he thought I had stolen a letter from you and it was in his shirt pocket. You two are so dense, when will you admit your feelings to each other?”

“Ginny, it isn’t that simple. All he ever does is bug me about Viktor. I can’t just say, ‘Well, there isn’t anything going on between me and Viktor because I like you.’ Do you know how awkward that would be? He’s my best friend. What if you’re wrong and he doesn’t like me. Then I’ll lose him as a friend.” Hermione seemed very aggravated.

“At least he is your friend. Harry’s just my brother’s friend and someone who saved my life. Loving him hurts.” Ginny turned around and looked Hermione in the eye.

“It hurts too, to be in love with your best friend,” Hermione said in a low voice.


	3. High up in the Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarka has the honor of writing the lyrics you'll find in the chapter.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you ...” Angelina turned in her bed. Why had the Quaffle in her dream started singing? She was just about to score with it. It kept singing and was starting to sound very much like Alicia. Angelina pried her eyes open. The mild winter sun shone into the dormitory and sitting on her bed were her two best friends, Alicia and Katie. 

“Finally! We thought you were going to sleep all day. It’s your birthday, young lady,” said Katie and tossed a pillow in Angelina’s face, “aren’t you curious to see what we are giving you?”

“Frankly, no,” said Angelina and yawned, “at least if you are giving me what you’ve been threatening.” 

“Relax, you’ve got yourself a real-life boyfriend now, no substitutes needed.”Alicia handed her a small box and Angelina fought the urge to sigh in relief. She raised herself in the bed and started unwrapping the gift.

“Oh, girls. You’re the greatest,” she said when she had seen it was a bottle of her favourite fragrance. They hugged her and made it clear they would make the whole Gryffindor table sing the birthday song if she wouldn’t hurry and get dressed.

Fred smiled at her across the Gryffindor table when she came downstairs. He was sitting next to George and they were pouring over some piece of parchment. She realized he had no idea that this was her eighteenth birthday. Should she tell him? What for? She prodded with her spoon into her bowl of cereal. Fred was fantastic and all but he didn’t seem to be the romantic type. He wouldn’t surprise her with a candlelight dinner and roses. She looked in his direction and saw he was watching her. Something warm rose in her chest as the right corner of his mouth was pulled up in a grin that showed his dimples. No, she wouldn’t need any candlelight dinners. 

History of Magic didn’t get any better even though the students were in their seventh year. Binns was now giving a lecture about the influence of wizards on Muggle politics in the twentieth century. 

“... silly stories about Mrs Thatcher’s supposed magical origins. As a matter of fact, it is far too earlier to speculate about magical influence and the Conservative government, though ...”

Angelina stared absentmindedly out of the window. Next to her Alicia was sleeping soundly on her textbook and Lee Jordan was snoring rather loudly. Her eyes traveled over the room and settled on the back of a head with flaming red hair. Fred seemed to dozing off because every now and then he would jerk slightly. That didn’t seem to bother George, who was fast asleep with his head on his brother’s shoulder. She kept her eyes on Fred and started to think about what had transpired between them two nights earlier. He had said that he loved her, and she remembered the mix of emotion that she had felt when he had uttered those three words. That helplessness, what was she supposed to say? The boy she had been pining for, saying he loved her just out of the blue. It just kept her grounded and she had watched the panic rise in his face, yet the only thing she had been able to do had been to smile. Then he had kissed her, a passionate kiss which filled her senses. There was Fred everywhere, he was the ground she stood on, he was the breeze that played in her hair, he was the moonshine and the twinkling stars. They tried to melt into each other, helping each other discarding their cloths in order to touch the bare skin of the other. The skin on his shoulders and his chest was smooth, while his hands felt rough on her body. That was Fred, a combination of these two, rough on the outside but smooth on the inside. 

It was a Shame that their little encounter had been interrupted by a curious dog. Angelina couldn’t help but wonder how far they would have gone if Fang hadn’t mistaken them for rabbits. Deep inside she was glad it hadn’t got any further because that kiss they had shared because entering the Gryffindor common room had been truer somehow. Maybe because she had then also declared her love, maybe because she was more content with that pace of the relationship. 

“... the knowledge of the British wizarding community is known to the following Muggles; the Queen or should I say the Monarch, the Prime Minister, the head of the Scotland Yard and the head of the MI-5. I’m, of course, excluding the Muggle families of many wizards and witches ...” Binns was still droning on and Fred had finally fallen fast asleep leaning a bit backwards in his chair. George’s head was still on his shoulder. Angelina smiled, she was proud of how close Fred and George were. She knew Fred would tell George all about her but that didn’t bother her. It was still amazing to her that their relationship had healed quickly after all the damage Eve had caused. 

“... in the Second World War, most military intelligence offices knew of Grindelwald’s existence and his connection to the ruling party in Germany at that time, National Socialist German Workers' party or the Nazis ...” Angelina’s eyelids began to drop and for the rest of that class she slept as soundly as her classmates.

Angelina, Alicia and Katie hurried off to dinner, there were few things that worked up their appetite than Care of Magical Creatures and this class had been an exciting one. They had been studying Winged Horses and the girls had been the only ones who had been allowed to mount them. The horses had all been Abraxans and Angelina was sure they were Madame Maxine’s whiskey-drinking steeds. Fred and George hadn’t been allowed to mount the horses, Hagrid had had some reservations and mentioned something about ‘them Weasleys, too foolhardy.’ 

It had been like nothing she had ever tried, to feel that enormous beast soar with her. It wasn’t the high speed of a broomstick, this was much more graceful. It had awakened some hidden princess dreams in her, she had been like a goddess, a muse that could drive men wild. She was more confident now and frankly she couldn’t wait to see Fred. 

Angelina had nearly finished eating when Fred came to dinner. He sat at the table right across from her and looked straight at her.

“How was it flying that horse? I wish that Hagrid had let me fly it,” he asked as he piled mashed potatoes on his plate.

“Incredible, nothing like it. Not even a Firebolt. Best birthday present I’ve ever got,” she said without a thought. Fred dropped his fork on the plate.

“What?” he mouthed, “it's your birthday today?” She didn’t know what to say and looked down. Could he be angry with her?

“Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, I’d've given you something or done something. You’re my girlfriend,” he said, blushing and running a hand through his hair.

“I just forgot somehow, there was no need for you to do anything,” she said in a weak voice. He bit his lip nervously and seemed to pondering something. Then his face brightened and he got up.

“Come with me,” he said and reached for Angelina’s hand. “I’m going to show you something.” He led her out of the Great Hall and out of the castle onto the grounds and towards Hagrid’s hut. When they stopped in front of the paddock which contained the Winged Horses, she finally understood what he planned to do. 

“This seems a bit easy to me, I’ve just finished telling you how much I loved flying on the horse,” she said laughing.

“Well, this time I’m going to be with you,” Fred said in a determined voice and walking into the paddock and freeing one of the horses. “I’m not going to miss the fun.”

The horse didn’t seem to have any objections to let them both mount and soon they were flying high above the Forbidden Forest. She had the reins and Fred sat behind her and had his arms around her waist. The horse didn’t need egging on to fly at a speed Angelina felt comfortable on which was, of course, furiously fast. Fred seemed to enjoy it too, for she heard him laughing with delight. After few moments of dives and ascents that would makes most people sick but gave Angelina and Fred only a mild case of butterflies in their stomachs, he grabbed the reins and slowed the beast down until they were hovering over the Quidditch pitch. 

“What are you doing?” she asked curiously. He just smiled and cleared his throat. Then he started singing:  
__  
The way you touch my skin  
The way you wear your hair  
The world that I live in  
Has changed 'cause you are there.  
The way you smile at me  
You're all that I can see  
We're flying you and I  
High up in the sky.

Angelina gaped, Fred had really nice voice, a mild baritone voice which fitted the song quite well. The song was a rather old ballad, made popular on the WWN by the crooner Bob Billson, better known as The Swinging Sorceror. Fred kept on singing:

I've made a few mistakes  
I know I've made you blue  
I'll do anything it takes  
To make it up to you.  
The way you make me feel  
Too good, it can't be real.  
We're flying you and I  
High up in the sky.

The way you make me laugh  
The way you hold my hand  
I can't ever get enough  
And the best; you're still my friend  
You're an Angel in a way  
And I'm sure that we can stay  
Forever in the sky  
Flying, you and I.

Angelina’s heart was beating fast, it was like he meant every word he sang. She felt dizzy like she was afraid of heights. Absentmindedly she guided the horse down to earth where he landed with a thud.

“Fred, I didn’t know you could sing,” she said and turned to him.

“Actually, we Weasleys are pretty good singers except for Percy. He think he is, though,” he said with a grin.

“But why did you sing to me? Why that particular song?” She looked him in the eye. He just kept on grinning.

“Because I think it's about us two and because you're an Angel, in a way,” he said and kissed her. Then he got off the horse and helped her down. He kissed her again with the same passion he'd, few nights earlier. She had her hands around his neck and his rested on the small of her back. Finally he broke the kiss and whispered in her ear, “Happy birthday, my angel high up in the sky.”

~~~

George watched his brother lead his girlfriend out of the Great Hall. He sighed. He was genuinely pleased for Fred but there were other things on his mind now. Like that letter he had received this morning,

Dear George, 

I dreamt a dream about you. We were up in the air on your broomstick and I was showing you the stars. I hope this dream will come true.

Love always, your secret admirer.

He clenched his fists in frustration. Who was sending him these letters? Ginny hadn’t come with any noteworthy information though it seemed that the female population of Hogwarts had a certain fondness for Quidditch players, according to Ginny. Apparently, she had heard girls from various houses talking about the cute boys on the Gryffindor team. What did he care about if some sixth year Hufflepuffs thought he was cute? He wanted to know who that secret admirer was and he was more sure than ever that it was a Gryffindor, for he had found this morning’s letter in his shoe. Someone must have snuck into his dormitory in the middle of the night to put the letter there. He had also found letters in his book bag and once between in a stack of newly pressed robes. Fred had insisted that the secret admirer had to be a house-elf. He went on talking in a squeaky voice, ‘Oh, sir. I is loving you, sir. I is your secret admirer, sir. Is the sir wanting a hot water bottle in his bed? Dipsy not good at holding bed hot herself sir.’ George laughed at Fred, but just to rule everything out, he had gone to Hermione and asked her if house-elves could write. She had mistaken his interest for an interest in S.P.E.W. and handed him a stack of leaflets before she had told him that house-elves indeed couldn’t write and it was horrible how house-elves were kept oppressed and undereducated.

Why was this person and her letters and notes bothering him so much? He made his way up to the Gryffindor Tower and muttered the password dully to the Fat Lady. Maybe it was the invasion of his private life that bothered him; the idea that someone out there was watching his every move. George wondered if it was because he was a twin, he already had someone who knew about his innermost thoughts. 

Ron was sitting at a desk in a corner of the common room, looking displeased. George decided to join him, they could be surly together.

“What are you doing?” he asked his younger brother who was flipping furiously through some thick volume and scribbling strange symbols on a piece of parchment.

“Some ruddy homework for Divination. It's a star chart and I’m supposed to be predicting my romantic future. Guess who suggested that to that foggy-brain crystal gazer? Those annoying giggling twins,” Ron pushed the parchment away from him in frustration. 

“Giggling twins? Whom are you talking about?” asked George, wondering vaguely who those giggling twins were.

“Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, I know they aren’t twins or anything and Parvati has Padma or what’s her name but they could be twins, always giggling in unison.”

“Fred and I don’t do everything in unison, you know that.” George furrowed his brow.

“I know but you are boys, they are girls. Girls are weird.”

“Isn’t one of your best friends a girl?”

“Yeah, Hermione's a girl, but she’s Hermione. She doesn’t giggle over some bloody star chart. She thinks Divination is rubbish, which it is, but don’t tell her she’s right. I hate it when she puts up her ‘I told you so’ look.”

“So, how is your romantic future?” asked George deliberately, right after Ron’s ramble.

“What do I know about star charts, all just circles and lines and strange symbols. I mean, how can something high up in the sky, like stars, have influence on my life here down on the ground?” Ron mumbled. “Besides, Trelawney wants it tragic. The more tragic, the better marks I get. Usually I make one up to make her happy but I do it with Harry and he's gone off somewhere.”

“But if you didn’t have to turn your prediction in, how do you see your romantic future?” George had hard time not to grin.

“Why do you ask that? But I dunno, really. Marry someone nice, I suppose.” It seemed like Ron had never thought about that. George didn’t give up though, he wanted to know certain things.

“What kind of a nice girl? Pretty, smart, funny, kind ... what?”

“Err ... maybe all those things,” said Ron, and his ears were slowly turning bright red.

“Is there a girl you know who is all of that?” Ron didn’t reply to George’s question because the rest of his face was turning as red as his ears. Then he slowly nodded and George fought even harder to hold back his grin.

“I think there’s a girl. So, why haven’t you made your move or something?” he asked then and felt like he had won a good sum of money.

“Why do you think there’s such girl?” Ron mumbled. “Maybe there is but maybe she has a boyfriend who is just leagues above me in money and he’s famous and rich and all girls fancy him and ...”

“Hold it right there,” said George who was now on the verge of bursting out laughing. “First of all, remember that we Weasley men are devilishly handsome and no woman in their right mind would turn us down, though we might not be the richest blokes in the world.”

“Shut up, George,” said Ron who seemed to sense the mirth in George’s voice. “I’m not going to let you tease me about this. Maybe I like a girl but she has a boyfriend.”

“Well, there's just one girl I can think of who could possibly maybe have a rich and famous boyfriend,” said George, “her name is Hermione.” Ron scowled.

“George, promise not to tell anyone. It is so stupid to like your best friend in that way.”

“I promise, but you know that Viktor Krum isn’t her boyfriend. She told me that herself.”

“What? I’m always asking her and she refuses to tell me?!? Why?” Ron sounded indignant. 

“Maybe because she isn’t sure why you're asking. I think she doesn’t understand your interest in her affairs. Relax, little brother, I’m sure if she likes you more than a friend, things will progress on their own. Just don’t anything you’re not comfortable with.” George was now grinning and having fun watching his brother wriggle in his seat. 

“What about my Divination homework? I need a tear-jerking romantic future,” Ron finally said, still with red ears.

“Oh, how about that the love of your life flies away with some handsome, foreign man who is rich and powerful and when you are pursuing them, attempting to save your love, you fall of your broomstick and break your neck?” 

“Very funny, George but it will make that insect-eyed tea-leaves lover happy.”


	4. Bleak Abyss

Marcus took off his work robes. He considered his work to be a torture, he was supposed to be a great Quidditch player, not a groundkeeper’s assistant. His mind travelled back in time to when he had just finished Hogwarts. It had been humiliating enough sitting through year seven again. There hadn’t been any N.E.W.T.s the first time he had sat in year seven but his average had been abysmal and McGonagall said she couldn’t allow him to leave school with such horrible marks. He hated that woman intensely. Then another blow had come when he tried out for the various Quidditch teams; none of them had interest in having him on board, not even as a reserve. He had thought every team needed a reserve Chaser. This had ended with the manager of the Falmouth Falcons offering him a groundkeeper position with a vague promise of considering him for a position on the team in few years time. 

Nevertheless, other things weighed heavier on his mind. Like his sister’s funeral. He had been alone there. Their parents knew of her death but had opted to keep away. It was obvious why, they were important in the Dark Lord’s ranks and the Dark Lord had made it clear that they should disown their daughter. Besides, they were both out of the country and had been for some years. Mingling in some Dark Arts circles in Eastern Europe. He didn’t miss them, they considered him a failure and they didn’t hide their opinion. Delilah hadn’t criticized him, even though she had scolded him frequently. She had offered him a place to stay when he had left Hogwarts. He couldn’t say she had been nice. Nice was a word that had never entered Delilah’s vocabulary. She had been a Slytherin through and through, fervid and ruthless. It was her opinion that one didn’t gain power in the wizarding world through one’s occupation. Power was gained with the right connections and she had been anxious to get into the Ministry. Since she refused to settle for a junior position in the Ministry, she’d never gone to work there at all. Instead, she had worked at Obscurus Books, proofreading textbooks. Delilah had been intelligent – she’d managed 11 N.E.W.T.s and usually when their parents had declared their disappointment with Marcus, they had compared him to Delilah.

He Apparated into his apartment, which had been Delilah’s apartment as well. Her things were still lying about, he hadn’t sorted through them. He wasn’t sure what to do with them. At least he would like to put them away, looking at them filled him with some weird hollow feeling. It wouldn’t be much trouble, the things were neatly arranged. He walked over to her desk and opened one of the drawers, which he had never done before. Her life hadn’t interested him much. He had just done what she asked him to do and kept himself out of her way. She had been a loner, he was a bit more sociable even though he had lost touch with most of his mates from school. He enjoyed going to a pub to have a tankard of mead and a laugh over jokes about Muggles. It had also been like that in the few Death Eater meetings they had had. He had mingled while Delilah remained aloof. Well, he didn’t exactly mingle. The Death Eaters weren’t a social club but he had learned that many of the Death Eaters were mainly interested in Muggle torturing and Mudblood killing, something that he didn’t mind being a part of. 

He hadn’t been assigned any work by the Dark Lord but he had an inkling that would wait until it was time to strike. The Death Eaters kept quiet, they were slowly infiltrating the Ministry and when the other side came to its senses, there would be Death Eaters on every corner. Delilah’s job had been of that sort. She was supposed to turn Ron Weasley to the Dark Side, but then she had decided otherwise. Why? Even to Marcus, it seemed illogical to take on the Weasley twins. Delilah knew enough about the Weasley family to know that, she had been with the two oldest of the Weasley siblings at Hogwarts and he had told her all he knew about the others. Ron was the best choice because he happened to be Harry Potter’s best friend and by seducing Ron, Delilah would have had a good access to Potter, something that would have pleased the Dark Lord. 

Delilah’s desk revealed no secrets. She had never collected anything and always thrown out everything as soon as it had been used. Yet there were few books there. There was her book on old Nordic magic. He picked it up and saw that one page was dog-eared. Gunnhildur’s Curse was written at the top of the page. It was all about enchanting objects so that their bearers would, in some way, lose their abilities. He knew about the talisman Delilah had made for George Weasley and which had made George unable to do magic against his brother. Her plan hadn’t been farfetched because the Weasley family was one of the strongest assets that the other side had and ruining the Weasley family undermined the other side in a great way. 

He kept rummaging through the desk’s drawers, not finding much until he found a stack of note books, all marked My Journal. One of them seemed to be from her Hogwarts days and he picked it up to see how she had fared in school:

 

September 7th 1984

 

I had a Prefects’ meeting today. He was there but didn’t look at me. I don’t think he’s got a girlfriend though. Iphigenia Murray was asking me if there was someone I liked. I kept my mouth shut. Think if someone would find out that I liked a Gryffindor.

 

Marcus read the last line again. Had Delilah liked a Gryffindor? That would be like the Falmouth Falcons playing a clean game. He had to read further in the journal.

 

May 4th 1985

 

I can’t believe that he’s leaving Hogwarts soon and I’m stuck here another year. I wonder what he’s going to do. He could do anything, he’s so smart and who wouldn’t want to hire a former Head Boy? 

I had a dream about him last night. It wasn’t like usual when he seeks me out in the common room and says a pretty girl like me should be out in the sunshine. In this one, he looked younger, about fifteen or so. He was standing rather flushed in front of me, wearing only a bathing suit. Very strange I must admit. 

 

Who had been a Head Boy when Delilah had been in her sixth year? He didn’t have a clue, he had never liked these titles or the people who held them. Those who been the Slytherin Prefects in his time had been insufferable busybodies and that Weasley who had been the Head Boy when he had sat in year seven the second time, he had been an intolerable git. One of those guys who deserved to be beaten up. He picked up another journal, a bit newer than the one Delilah had written at Hogwarts.

 

July 17th 1993

 

Saw his picture in the Daily Prophet. He was with his whole family, they are really a large family and seem to be close. I wish we were as close. Mum and Dad are very displeased with Marcus because he failed his seventh year at Hogwarts. I hate them, it is all about keeping up appearances with them. Not a real ambition. 

Bill’s work in Egypt is probably very fascinating. I really want to go there and see him. His hair has grown since I saw him last. He is so beautiful. Hopefully he’s coming next year to the World Cup. 

Why am I torturing myself with this? We are as different as a flobberworm and a manticore. Me being the flobberworm. I just sit here, I don’t have a life. If I should be honest, I really wished it was the time of You-Know-Who. At least things weren’t at status quo then. I supposed if he would still be around, Bill would be fighting against him while I was supporting the Dark Lord. I need something to fill this bleak abyss in my soul.

 

Marcus stared dumbfounded at this entry. Not only had she liked a Gryffindor, it had been a Weasley and for such long time. Eight years at least. He briefly wondered if his sister had in fact been mentally ill and decided then to check out the latest journal.

 

July 10th 1995

 

I can’t go through with the Dark Lord’s plan. I know I should feel honoured to have an assignment so soon after my initiation. 

I went to Brighton today and found the Weasley family. The mother was there, the twins, Ron and the girl. Ron looks so like Bill when he was at that age. I can’t go near him, he reminds me too much of Bill. What am I going to do? I’m supposed to get to Ron and get information on Harry Potter. The Dark Lord has some plans to turn Ron to our side, thus opening a path to Harry Potter. I want to serve the Dark Lord, he’ll provide the means which might satisfy my aspirations but I can’t overcome my Bill fixation. I loath the Weasleys, their stupid Muggleloving, their lack of wizarding pride. There will be harm done, I’ll do the Dark Lord’s bidding. I promise that.

 

So that was why she didn’t follow the Dark Lord’s instructions? Ron had reminded her of Bill and for that mistake she had paid with life. He felt something burning inside of him. His throat tightened and he swallowed several times. This wouldn’t have happened if there hadn’t been any Weasleys.

Marcus had finished packing his sister’s things away. It was hard to believe that everything that was Delilah could fit into few cardboard boxes. Everything about her had always seemed very grand to him. He was missing her, it was an alien feeling for him – he was used to feel hatred and anger first and foremost. The want to harm and hurt was a feeling he knew very well but this hollow ache was different. It magnified his desire to hurt someone, he wanted someone to feel more pain than he was experiencing now. He wished the Death Eaters had started attacking people and killing Muggles, he wanted a release through violence. After all, it was the reason he was invited to join the Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy had contacted him and told him that the Dark Lord wanted to recruit him. His sister had been enlisted by a wizard who was working with her, Melchior Nott. They hadn’t told each other, they had found out at the initiation ceremony that they were both joining the Death Eaters. Delilah had been very excited and he understood why after reading her journal. Being able to rise within the Death Eaters would certainly have satisfied her goals and had she fulfilled the Dark Lord’s wishes, she would have become a powerful Death Eater. He fought the urge to kick the furniture, he wanted to save the energy to really do harm. There had to be a way he could access the Weasleys.

His train of thought was broken by a tapping on the window. A large eagle owl was hovering outside, bearing a letter from its owner, Draco Malfoy. Marcus still kept in touch with him, more out of duty than anything. Draco’s father had, after all, provided the Slytherin team with broomsticks. He and Draco were a bit alike, they both didn’t see any need to show other people any consideration. Compassion was a sign of weakness. The owl flew gracefully in when he opened the window. It landed on the coffee table and extended its leg so Marcus could extract the letter.

 

Marcus

 

My condolences with the death of your sister. I assume you know with whom the fault lies. It was of course mistake on her behalf not following the Dark Lord’s wishes but I suppose the blame might just as well lie with those she was dealing with in her project. I do not know the details about her assignment. I only know she was dealing with a family which brings shame upon the term pureblood. In case you are seeking revenge, something I would urge you to do, then I suspect you would be most interested to know that a golden opportunity has come for you to strike. You are not going to storm into Hogwarts or aforementioned family’s house. The wards are too strong. The opportunity I am speaking of lies in a note I found lying around in the Great Hall. It read:

 

New Year’s Eve Party at the Burrow. Entertainment and refreshments provided by the Messrs Weasley and Weasley (Lee Jordan gets to help us). No Slytherins allowed (well, you can come and be guinea pigs for our invention, Octopus Omelettes). Be there around eight or be triangular. Please keep this information secret from all people who bear the title Professor or parent. 

Gred and Forge

 

I have only two words to add to this: Polyjuice Potion. Or maybe I could add: good luck and wreak havoc.

D.M.

 

The corner of Marcus’ mouth was pulled upward in a horrible grin. This was perfect, opportunity. A plan was already forming in his mind and if it would succeed, no one would ever find out that he was behind it. The Weasleys would certainly pay. 

 


	5. Love Bites

Hermione sat in her favourite corner of the common room, writing an Ancient Runes essay on how the futhark rune alphabet was incorporated in Nordic magic symbols. It was hard to concentrate, there was too much noise. Everyone had grouped around the Weasley twins inquiring them about that New Year’s Eve party they were promoting. Apparently Mr and Mrs Weasley wouldn’t be present at the Burrow on New Year’s Eve, for they themselves had been invited to a feast and it looked like they had no idea that their children were planning. When she had voiced her concerns to Ron, he had been annoyed. ‘Can’t you lay off all this Prefect stuff for just one minute?’ he had asked and she had been hurt. It wasn’t like she was trying to be a spoilsport, she was worried that something bad might happen in a party like that. They were living in uncertain times. It was a matter of when, and not if, the Death Eaters would make their first attack. She felt that the twins should have more sense, especially since they had just barely escaped unharmed from that Flint girl. Hermione wondered what had become of her. Was she still at large with the Death Eaters? What about her brother, was he biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to use violence or even kill? Hermione remembered all too well how brutal he had been when playing Quidditch at Hogwarts. She shuddered at her thoughts.

A Filibuster fire cracker came flying in her direction and she had to duck so it wouldn’t hit her. She looked over to the group around the twins and saw Ron laughing. He was still tall and lanky, but she had noticed that his shoulders and chest were beginning to broaden. Why was she thinking about that? He was still Ron, immature and headstrong. Maybe she was just thinking about this because Lavender and Parvati had been talking about how fit their classmates were. Those two could prattle all day long about boys and Lavender was always announcing what she and Seamus got up to. ‘He took his shirt off,’ she had said last night and then pressing her face to her pillow in a fit of giggles. Hermione rolled her eyes at the recollection. Never would she behave this way over a boy. Besides, she was still too young for such things or that was what she had told herself last summer when she made her mind up about Viktor. It was aggravating that her heart was starting to disagree, it seemed to skip a beat every time Ron looked her way and he did that a lot. 

Her eyes travelled over the common room in search of Ginny. Maybe they could have another chat. The last one had helped her though she refused to believe Ginny when she’d said that Ron liked her. It was odd that she was saying such things. Hermione would never dream of telling Ginny that Harry liked her if she wasn’t absolutely sure he felt that way. This was probably something most girls did, telling each other stuff like that so they would feel better about themselves. Lavender and Parvati certainly did. She was the one who was different. A girl who had only boys for friends, she had been deprived of those girl-talks. Girls were always grouping together and she had the evidence right in front of her – Angelina, Alicia and Katie chatting animatedly and a group of second year girls were huddled together and whispering. Was she missing out on something? Harry and Ron were the best friends she could have had and when she had started at Hogwarts, she hadn’t looked for any girl friends. Other girls never seemed to have liked her or that was what her experience had been in primary school. She had been teased and even bullied there. The old taunts still were clear in her head: “Brainy Grainy”, “The Boring Little Bookworm” and many more she couldn’t bear thinking about. Ignoring insults soon had become an art form for her and she had been very surprised how hurt she’d become when Ron had called her a nightmare in their first year. Probably because she had thought that Hogwarts would be different, she might not gain loads of friends but at least people wouldn’t call her names. When she had become friends with Harry and Ron, she had finally understood the beauty of friendship. She loved them both to pieces. It was difficult, of course, not to love Harry; he was the most genuine person she had ever met. His heroic streak was almost poetic. She wanted to protect him, shield him, and without doubt she would risk her life for him. Ron, on the other hand, was … why had it become so difficult to think a straight thought about him? He had always managed to push her buttons, aggravate her tremendously but somehow nearly always remain her friend. Now she found herself staring at his lips, and thinking about what it might be like if he kissed her. The heat rose in her cheeks as she recollected the dreams she sometimes had about him. Supposedly it was normal to have those kinds of dreams at her age. Nevertheless it was hard for her to look Ron in the face in the morning after having dreams about touching and kissing him the night before.

Her eyes kept scanning the common room and finally settled on Ginny, who was whispering something to Harry. They were sitting together alone near the fireplace. Hermione’s eyes widened. What was that about? Maybe this was the reason why Ginny had become so secretive lately, although if things were progressing between her and Harry, she wouldn’t keep it a secret. No, Hermione was sure it was something else, something which caused Ginny and Harry look suspiciously around the common room every once in awhile and then return to their frantic whispering. 

“What are you doing?” Hermione was startled. She hadn’t seen Ron approach.

“Oh, just homework,” she said, flustered.

“Yeah, right. You were gazing into thin air, since when has that become homework? It could be your Arithmancy assignment though,” Ron said and looked over the piece of parchment strewn over the table.

“Maybe I was thinking.”

“About what?”

“Oh, the party your brothers are throwing. I’m a bit worried.”

“Hermione, it’s okay. You don’t have to take responsibility for it,” he sat besides her. “Aren’t you coming? I thought you had asked your parents to stay over the last days of the holiday.”

“Yes, I did and I’m coming, but what about your parents? Do they know that the Burrow is going to be full of kids on New Year’s Eve. What if something happens? I mean, we can’t know if the Death Eaters strike or not.” She looked at him for a second and looked away quickly.

“Hermione, first of all, I think the wards at the Burrow are strong and then there will be fully-licensed wizards at the party. Oliver Wood is coming and we might expect Percy and Penny though I hope not, Percy probably doesn’t approve or something. I also think that Fred and George were planning on inviting Serafina McQueen who was the Gryffindor Seeker before Harry. She’s very cool, I’ve met her. They’re probably inviting some other people who have left Hogwarts,” Ron was obviously excited about this party and she just smiled, it was no point in arguing this further. All she could do was to attend this party and try to prevent trouble.

 

~~~~

 

Ron sighed. It didn’t seem like Hermione was planning on having much fun at the twins’ party. He really wanted her to; he wanted to have fun with her. Laughing and saying jokes, maybe dance a bit. Not formal dances like some people had been dancing on the Yule Ball last year. She should have fun, loosen up a bit. That was something that she needed once in a while and they had learned that the hard way in their third year. The fifth year schedule was demanding and she also had the Prefect’s duty and whenever she had free time, she was working on S.P.E.W. He was also working hard; it was no easy feat being on the Quidditch team. 

Hermione had got back to her homework and Ron decided to leave her to it. The common room was clearing; most people were off to bed. He searched for Harry and saw him talking to Ginny. What was that about? They were laughing merrily while Ginny was gesturing wildly. Hopefully she wasn’t sharing an embarrassing story about him though he wasn’t very worried that Harry would tease him, at least it wouldn’t be any worse than what Fred and George usually gave him. 

It felt awkward to go and break up the conversation his sister and best friend were having. Best get to bed, he thought, I can ask Harry later what that was all about. As he climbed the stairs to the dormitories, he wondered when Ginny had started to act like herself around Harry. She had always gone weird around him. Maybe she was outgrowing her crush. What did he know?

Neville was already snoring and it seemed like Seamus and Dean were also asleep. Ron was glad – he didn’t feel like having a repeat of last night, when Seamus had returned from a rendezvous with Lavender, looking very smug and keeping them all up late talking.

 

“What’s with the grin?” Dean had asked and Seamus had grinned even wider, pulling his jumper off and pulling the collar of his t-shirt down to reveal a reddish bruise right under his collar bone. Ron had recognised what it was right away but he kept quiet.

“Why are you bruised?” Neville had asked. Dean had snickered while Seamus had pulled his t-shirt down. 

“That, my friend, is a lovebite,” Seamus had replied, “Lavender and I got … err … passionate in the Arithmancy class room.” Harry had chortled while Dean clapped Seamus’s back.

“How does one get a lovebite? Did she really bite you?” Neville’s eyes had become very wide. 

“No, dungbrain,” Seamus had said, “she just kissed me a bit hard. That can cause bruises.” The rest of the night, they had educated each other about what you could get up to when alone with a member of the opposite sex. No one of them had much experience, Seamus’s lovebite was as far as it went. 

This had ended of course in Dean and Seamus asking Harry and Ron if either of them had kissed Hermione. They had looked at each other and Harry had answered, “nothing more than a good-bye kiss on the cheek.”

“I bet Krum got more than that,” Seamus had remarked, winking at Dean. Something had snapped inside Ron and he had told Seamus to shut up in an angry voice.

“Down boy,” Seamus had laughed, and Dean, Neville and Harry had looked very amused.

 

Ron groaned, he didn’t want to think more about it, though he knew that Hermione wasn’t about to leave his mind. He knew that when he fell asleep, thoughts about her would be replaced by dreams about her.

As he slid under the warm bedcovers, he couldn’t help but think of the house-elves. Was her propaganda starting to have an influence on his way of thinking? She was so enthusiastic about it and it really meant something to her. He could try and support her, she deserved that for being such a good friend to him and to Harry. She took pride in being as supportive as possible to Harry and he tried to follow her example. The argument between himself and Harry over the Triwizard Tournament still left a sour taste in his mouth. He turned in the bed and decided to concentrate on something else, like her.

He was pretty sure that money didn’t matter much to her, but that might have changed since she met Krum. Maybe she preferred boys who had smart clothes and could give her something more than impersonal books and sweets. This Christmas would be different, he wanted to give her something special and he was determined to use the last Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas break to find it. It was another story with the smart clothes, he couldn’t afford to have new and he was out-growing nearly every hand-me-down from his brothers. In fact, only Bill’s old clothes fit him properly now. 

Then he remembered – his new dress robes! Finally he could possible wear something that might look good on him. He would wear them at the party and show her that English boys could be just as good as Bulgarians, or even better. Thinking these thoughts, his eyelids dropped and he started dreaming about being at a party, all dressed up in his blue dress robes, twirling Hermione and she was dressed in those robes she had been in at the Yule Ball. Slowly the dream changed and he was sitting with Hermione in his lap, kissing her fiercely. He sighed in his sleep and turned on his other side.


	6. Trainspotting

The snow covered mountains of Scotland zoomed past as Harry gazed idly out of the window of the train. Ron sat across from him and was sleeping. Hermione was sitting besides him, engrossed in some book. She was going to spend the Christmas with her parents and then join him and Ron at the Burrow two days before New Year’s Eve. Harry grinned, he was looking forward to the party Fred and George were throwing. They seemed have no worries about their parents and Harry supposed that it wasn’t his place to worry about that either. 

He looked at his watch; he had a meeting with Ginny. They were going to do a bit more spying. It was fun to spy with her, listening to conversations that people were having all over the Hogwarts castle. He had even brought his Invisibility Cloak and they had hid in a girls’ bathroom. That had been a very interesting experience. They hadn’t had any luck in finding more information about the secret admire, but knew now a lot about the dilemmas of several seventh year Hufflepuff girls. Harry had certainly got more information then he’d bargained for. He knew now all about shaving under the arms, cramps and how the wire in underwire bras would sometimes stick into one’s ribcage. The Marauder’s Map hadn’t helped them either, even if he had tried to stay awake the whole night watching it. He had of course fallen asleep, dreaming that he was leaving Ginny love letters under her pillow. This espionage business was getting to him. 

“I’m going to the loo,” he said to Hermione, standing. She looked at him and kept reading her book. There were groups of people along the aisles of the train and sometimes he had to turn sideways to get past them.

“All right, Potter?” said Ernie Macmillan as Harry walked past him. He just knew Ernie wanted to talk about Quidditch so he pretended he hadn’t heard him. This wasn’t the time for idle talk. Finally, he saw the person he’d been seeking – her red hair stood out against the dark panelling of the train.

“Waiting long?” he asked as he reached her. 

“No, I’d just managed to slip out of a very heated debate about nail polish.” Ginny grinned and he couldn’t help but smile back. She seemed to make him oddly happy.

“How stand things?” he asked. 

“Well, I found out that we almost eliminated the Ravenclaw fifth years, Lisa Turpin is going out with Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst and Stephen Cornfoot are an item.” Ginny’s tone of voice was very business-like.

“That seems rather rounded up nicely, I wonder how they all got paired up like that.” Harry couldn’t help but wonder.

“Oh, you know how it is with those Ravenclaws, all those late hours pouring over Arithmancy homework,” said Ginny impishly. 

“How about Padma Patil? She isn’t seeing anyone, is she?” Harry asked. 

“It could be her! Why not? Parvati could be the one delivering the letters to George for her.” Ginny crossed her arms. Harry didn’t say anything. Padma wasn’t as forward as Parvati but then again he didn’t know Padma well. His only interaction with her had been on the Yule Ball last year and even then they had hardly talked.

“Oh, no!” sighed Ginny suddenly looked over Harry’s shoulder.

“What is it?”

“Malfoy is heading our way,” said she in an irritated voice. “Let’s pretend not to notice him … so, Harry, the Underground system in London consists of many tunnels? The rail tracks are inside those tunnels?” Harry understood right away that she wanted to engage him in some idle conversation, dull enough to make Malfoy not bother them. Though he suspected it would be in vain.

“Potter, heard you’re going to help the poor this Christmas. Struggling with your saint status now?” Draco said in his drawling voice. He had stopped seven feet away from them and was now smirking. Harry clenched his fists, preparing for the next wave of insults.

“Oh, was I interrupting something with you and Girl Weasel? You should choose your girlfriends more wisely, first the Mudblood and now a poor …” Harry had grabbed his wand but Ginny had been quicker to act.

“Malfoy, I think it would be wise for you to shut your mouth because I don’t like what comes out of it,” said Ginny fiercely.

“Are you going to make me or what?” asked Draco wryly.

“I could, you don’t know if I couldn’t do it permanently. You know perfectly well who could have taught me something like Silencio Omnino.” Harry caught his breath, Ginny was making a reference to Tom Riddle. He could hardly believe it, but it worked. Malfoy closed his thin-lipped gob and stared at her, a frightened look on his face. He recovered though and his signature sneer returned.

“I would watch out if I were the two of you, your comeuppance is due soon.” With that, he turned and walked away. 

“Ginny,” Harry said breathlessly when Malfoy was out of earshot, not caring about what he had said. “Why did you mention … you know who?”

“Tom?” she said in an oddly cheery voice, “because he taught me some frightening things and that curse I mentioned is real. I reckon that Malfoy knows it.”

“But Ginny …” 

“Harry, I know what you are thinking. I’ve just learned that this is the best way to deal with Tom. Being open about him is the perfect antidote against the secrets and the lies of the time Ton Riddle ruled my life.” Harry took a good look at Ginny. Was he talking to the same person he had saved from the Chamber of Secrets? Granted, she was no longer the pale, eleven year old. She had grown up a lot; he could sense a strong personality behind her still innocent-looking appearance. How was it that his best friend’s little sister had become so beautiful without him noticing? A wave of longing washed through him. He was falling for Ginny Weasley.

 

~~~~

 

Ginny glanced at Harry. He was starting to look at her in a strange way. It bothered her. Does my attitude about Tom upset him? She wondered. The attitude was something she had worked hard to acquire, to counteract the nightmares she had been having. After a long time she had been able to be honest to herself about Tom. Yes, she had been lured by him and yes, she had stolen the diary back from Harry because she had been more afraid that Harry would discover her secrets than that Tom would gain control over her again. 

“I should go back to Ron and Hermione,” Harry said suddenly and jerked away like he had been staring at something he shouldn’t. 

“Oh, did you leave them together alone?” said Ginny, feeling curious.

“Yeah, Ron was asleep and Hermione was reading some great big book,” he answered, running his hand through his untidy mop of hair. 

“Bet he’s awake now,” Ginny added with snigger, “you must have noticed, y’know, that he fancies her.” Harry rolled his eyes and smiled.

“And she fancies him. I wish I knew what to say to relieve that tension between them.”

“Tell me about it, I’ve encouraged her to tell him, but she refuses.”

“I don’t dare to say anything to Ron, but we boys don’t talk so much about these things,” he grinned, “we aren’t all Seamus Finnigan.” 

“Showing off his lovebites, is he?”

“How did you know?” he asked, though he seemed to know the answer.

“The person who inflicted them, has been boasting.”

“Oh, I thought so. Hey, I think it’s best that I check on your brother and Hermione. See you later,” he said and smiled to her in a very nice way before walking away. She watched him make his way through the crowd which had gathered along the train corridor. Harry had always been beautiful in her mind, but since she had started to spend more time with him, she was noticing all these details about him. The thick, long, black lashes fringing his bright, green eyes. The slender arches of his eyebrows. How his jaw line was becoming more masculine and something she had never wanted to think about before, how kissable his lips looked. Not that she had been kissed, but she thought a lot about it. Harry was the only boy she could imagining kissing. 

She was walking towards the compartment where her friends were sitting when she ran into her twin brothers, who were carrying a card box.

“Isn’t it the superspy?” asked George. “Still not found out who’s pining for me?”

“I’m working on it but who ever it is, she’s covering her tracks very well.”

“She?” said Fred amused, “certain it’s a she? It could be a he.”

“Shut up, Fred,” said George testily, “I honestly don’t want to picture some bloke stuffing a letter in a stack of my clean underwear. I’m sick of getting letters every time my clothes come from laundry.”

“Then it’s a house-elf …” Fred began but shut up when George kicked him in the shin. 

“I can tell you who it can’t be,” said Ginny, “I’ve ruled out all Ravenclaws except Padma Patil.”

“It can’t be her,” said George, “she’s too young.”

“Fifteen, two years younger than you. I don’t think that’s too young. Anyway, I’ve ruled out all the Hufflepuff girls,” Ginny couldn’t help but notice that it seemed to disappoint George that the Hufflepuffs were out of the running. “Then there are still the Gryffindors we have discussed.” 

“What about the Slytherins?” asked Fred deviously. 

“I thought I was to make sure it wasn’t anyone else before I would check out the Slytherins?” Ginny raised an eyebrow.

“Certainly,” George was quick to say, “what about the Gryffindors? Anything changed there?”

“No,” said Ginny, “but what’s in that box?” The twins grinned.

“Well, we have to transport people to the party somehow. These are Portkeys, tuned to transport people to the Burrow at eight o’clock, New Year’s Eve.” Fred picked up an old shoe.

“That’s clever,” said Ginny, “but have you tuned them so people can return?” George suddenly looked down and Fred just shrugged and said, “we’ll deal with that in due time.”

“That’s so typical of you,” she said and walked away from her brothers. It hadn’t been completely true what she had said to her brother, that she wasn’t bothering with the Slytherins. She had heard a lot of things when she had been hiding at the various girls’ bathrooms around Hogwarts. Pansy Parkinson weeping her eyes out about Malfoy. Some seventh-year girls giggling over the fact that Snape was really handsome had made her gag, and she had been glad that Harry hadn’t been with her then. He would have fainted. Actually it was more fun when Harry was with her, especially when girls started to talk about things like hair-removing charms and tanning potions. He always became embarrassed but always managed to have a good laugh about it afterwards.

She had asked him what boys talked about when they were having what she referred as ‘boy talks.’ She, of course, knew already, after all she had six older brothers. Harry had laughed and told her that blokes were more into teasing each other than moaning about their lack of chest hair. 

The train was now going through woodland and there was a village not far away from the tracks. Ginny started to think about the Burrow, she looked forward to showing Harry her home at Christmas time. Just the thought about it wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket. Memories of laughter, songs and snow fights filled her mind. Then there was the party. There was this knot in the pit of her stomach, she wanted to believe it was due to excitement but deep down she had to admit it was due to anxiety. What had Malfoy meant with that they would be getting their comeuppance? Was it just his usual nastiness or was there something to the threat? She shouldn’t be letting that bother her. The party was destined to be fun, there was going to be music and dancing. She sighed, would she and Harry hang out together at the party and maybe dance? Well, a girl can dream, she reckoned.


	7. Family Affair

“I’ll try to firetalk tomorrow,” Angelina said as she squeezed Fred’s hand. He nodded. It would be hard not to be able to see her every day. 

“Fred, are you coming?” George yelled from where he stood, ready to go through the barrier to the Muggle part of King’s Cross. 

“I better go,” said Fred and took her in his arms, giving her a brief hug and a kiss. Then he turned towards his brother. He wondered how his parents would act. This would be the first time he was meeting them since the whole Eve business. An image of his mother popped into his mind, her broken down countenance when they boarded the Hogwarts Express last fall. He knew she had wept quite often over the fallout between him and George and though she had tried to mend things, her eyes had been filled with a silent plea every time she looked at him. The night after Eve had revealed her true self, his and George’s first job had been to write an owl to their mother. She had replied to them immediately, her letter had been a tear-stained exclamation of joy. 

On the other side of the barrier, Fred saw that his parents and oldest brother were already busy greeting Harry, Ron and Ginny. Bill was ruffling Ginny’s hair when Mrs Weasley let out a shout.

“Oh, Fred! George!” she ran towards them and soon they found themselves nearly crushed to death by their mother. Their father stood behind his wife with a serious look and when Mrs Weasley had finally let go of her sons, he patted their back.

“Well, I think that it’s best that you two come with us,” Mr Weasley said, “Ron, Ginny and Harry can go with Bill in another taxi.” 

They had just settled in the car and Mr Weasley was still trying to get his long legs into a comfortable position when George turned to Fred.

“Seems like Angelina has completely forgiven you,” he said with a grin. “I saw her giving you a Christmas gift.” Fred didn’t respond immediately because he was aware that his parents were listening with full interest. 

“Ehh … yeah,” he answered feebly. 

“The same Angelina who’s on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?” Mr Weasley asked. “I didn’t know that you were such good friends.”

“She’s more than a friend to Fred, I dare say,” said George grinning.

“Really?” said Mrs Weasley in a fascinated tone. “Isn’t she daughter of Linda and Paul Johnson?” Fred just nodded.

“We must invite her for a visit, Molly,” Mr Weasley looked in the direction of his wife, who nodded. “But there is something we need to tell you two.” 

“What’s that?” asked Fred, somewhat relieved that it didn’t seem like his parents were going to question him much about Angelina. On the other hand, there was something unsettling in the tone of his father’s voice.

“I suppose you two know about my and your mother’s involvement with the Order of the Phoenix?” The twins nodded. “Dumbledore mentioned that he had told you about it, George. Now, we have few spies in the various places, even one amongst the ranks of the Death Eaters, but one of our informants told us about a death that was supposed to go undisclosed. Delilah Flint, or Eve as you knew her, is dead.” Fred and George both gasped. They had never expected this. Fred couldn’t help but feel a bit nauseated. Mr Weasley kept talking. “It’s most likely that the Dark Lord killed her for failing her mission. That’s what our specialists think. We’ve also heard that You-Know-Who didn’t intend for her to target the both of you, but that can’t be confirmed.” 

“Are you okay?” their mother asked with concern in her voice. George mumbled something and Fred wished he wasn’t stuck in this taxi with his parents. He wanted to have a private talk with his brother. They had had one conversation about Eve and it had been difficult. What was he supposed to think? That it was his fault she was dead? He couldn’t. She had tried to kill George, she had tried and nearly succeeding in turning them against each other. Was he sorry she was dead? Maybe – no one deserved to die, did they? But he had only ever felt hatred towards her since the curse had been lifted and he had discovered what she truly was.

“We weren’t sure whether to tell you this or not, but since Fred obviously has moved on, it didn’t seem like it would upset you extremely,” said Mr Weasley and pushed up his glasses. “And there is the matter of your future participation in the Order. Not that your mother and I are excited about that, but our fellow Order members seem to have confidence in you. They seem to think that you’re Order material.” The twins looked each other in the eye. Order material, fighting against Voldemort? This hung in the air between them with the news of Eve’s death. Quite a lot to take in. 

“So, is Charlie coming home for Christmas?” George asked, changing the subject. Fred nearly sighed in relief. 

“No, he says he’s too busy,” said their mother, pursing her lips. “Well, the six of you plus Harry, I shouldn’t complain. I suppose I should be ecstatic that Percy is coming. I’ve been worried about him, ever since Mr Crouch’s death was announced, he’s been withdrawn and then he showed up with Penny last summer. I honestly thought they had broken up.” Fred suddenly remembered something that George had told him. That both their parents had been involved in the earlier war against Voldemort. He decided to wait and ask Bill about it when he had a chance – Bill would remember what things had been like.

The rest of the taxi drive was spent in small talk about the twins’ studies and a bit of squabbling over joke shop plans. Mr and Mrs Weasley wanted their sons to put them on hold because building businesses in war times might be risky. Fred was more inclined to think that more laughter would be needed, as Harry had suggested, but he didn’t voice that opinion to his parents. He was sure though that George felt the same.

There was no snow in Ottery St. Catchpole, Fred noticed as he walked up to the Burrow. There rarely was snow at home, but Fred would have enjoyed the prospect of one good snowball fight – especially since he and Bill had a score to settle.

~~~~

George’s mind was reeling by the time that dinner was ready. There were so many things he had to think about: Eve’s death, The Order of the Phoenix and the newest letter from the secret admirer. He was uncharacteristically silent when he sat down at the dinner table, which was decked with baked trout and side dishes. He didn’t notice that he wasn’t the only one silent at the table. Percy sat rather subdued three seats away from him. This was the way things were until the pudding was served, then Bill turned to Percy and asked him about how things were at the Ministry.

“I prefer not talking about it here,” said Percy, and no one missed the look he gave his parents. Bill was obviously concerned about it.

“What was that for?” he asked quietly, but the whole table heard him. The chattering had died down.

“What was what for?” asked Percy back, folding his arms in defence.

“That look you gave Mum and Dad, it wasn’t pretty.”

“As I told you, I prefer not talking about it.” 

“Percy, don’t tell me you’re siding with the Ministry. Are you insane?” The oldest of the Weasley siblings had now abandoned his nonchalant exterior. George heard his sister gasp and he felt Fred grip his shoulder. Bill continued, “You’re willing to turn the other way while You-Know-Who takes over our world?”

“Maybe it’s the safest way, you know. I mean … I don’t want to … I remember how it was the last time.” Percy was very pale.

“You were five, I was thirteen when You-Know-Who was vanquished the first time and I think I would remember it better. Yet I’m not afraid to fight against him.” Bill looked like he was ready to reach across the table and grab Percy by the throat. George’s eyes darted to his parents, who sat grave and silent. He saw the wish in his mum’s eyes to send at least Ginny, Ron and Harry from the table so as to protect them.

“I remember quite enough,” Percy had raised his voice and his face had started to flush. “I remember being two years old and thinking that I would never see my Mummy again.” The effects of these words were instantaneous. Mrs Weasley had her hand over her heart, both Bill and Mr Weasley looked severely taken aback, Fred’s grip on George’s shoulder tightened, Harry and Ron exchanged puzzled looks and Ginny’s usually big eyes became even wider.

“You heard me,” Percy kept his voice low. “I know how foolishly Mother gambled with her life and the lives of her two unborn sons. I know she was captured by the Death Eaters. I remember not having any Mum to cuddle up, a Dad who wasn’t good at comforting because he didn’t have anyone to comfort him and two older brothers who kept to themselves. No one thought about me because you thought I didn’t understand what was going on. It might be partially true, but I understood that I might not see my Mummy again. So, can you blame me for wanting keep out of danger?” 

Mrs Weasley let out a sob and her husband reached out to hold her protectively. His face conveyed conflicted emotions, and matched the expression on Bill’s face. The others, George included, just sat frozen. For several minutes the only thing that could be heard was Mrs Weasley’s sobs. Finally she drew a deep breath and looked her third-born in the eye.

“Percival Lowell Weasley,” she said standing up and gripping the edge of the table, “for once, imagine how I must’ve felt. I’d been captured by the enemy, I was expecting to die and by some silly stroke of luck, I managed to Confound my keeper and Apparate home, taking terrible risk. I was five months pregnant with twins and could easily have splinched myself and killed both of them.

“But though I might have retreated from direct action, I supported our cause with all my heart.” Though Mrs Weasley might have stopped sobbing, tears were falling down her cheeks. Percy’s eyes were welling up as well and his shoulders began to shake.

“Come here, Percy,” his mother said with her arms outstretched. Percy got up and was enveloped in a motherly hug. He buried his face in her shoulder and George heard faintly what Percy was whispering: “I’m sorry, it’s just … I don’t want anything to happen to you again … why did he have to return … I was looking forward to a future with Penny and a career in the Ministry …”

George turned to Fred and they both got up, as did the rest of the table. They, Harry, Ron and Ginny headed upstairs while Bill and Mr Weasley slipped into the living room.

“I didn’t know that Mum had been with the Order,” said Ron, awestruck, when they came to the landing where the twins’ room was. “Did you know?” he asked Fred and George.

“Yeah,” admitted George, rubbing his chin. “Dumbledore told me, of all people.” 

“Really?” Ginny’s eyes were still enlarged with wonder. “I’m just surprised that Percy actually remembers. He was only two.”

“I remember the celebration when You-Know-Who was defeated. Mum and Dad took us all to Diagon Alley. You were just few months old, Ginny,” said Fred.

“You were three and a half at the time,” Ginny said, furrowing her brow.

“I remember it too,” said Ron, “it was then when you made me drink Putrid Pumpkin Juice.” 

“Oh, yeah. And then it was recalled from the market because its consumption made people’s ears turn interesting shades of colour.” Fred’s tone was innocent and Ron’s ears grew red. “Shut up,” he said then. 

“All right, so you remember that … oh, poor Percy,” Ginny sighed, “I suppose he’s never talked about it. I wonder how he felt when you all thought I was dead.” George shuddered at that recollection and from the look of the others, they felt the same.

“Come, Harry,” said Ron thickly and they ascended the stairs, Ginny followed them.

“That was something,” said Fred when he had closed the doors to their room. “Maybe that’s the reason Percy’s so weird.”

“Percy’s not weird, he’s just different from us,” said George heavily. 

“He is. Just look at Bill and Charlie, they understand us. I think Bill would like our party idea and I’m sure he wouldn’t blab to Mum and Dad.” Fred was busying himself with hiding secret stashes of Wizard Wheezes products in their hiding place, a box they’d attached under their bunk bed.

George took little notice because he was watching the owl outside of the window. It had to be an owl from his secret admirer. He sighed and let it in. He recognized the handwriting immediately.

I’ll be coming to your party on New Year’s Eve and I’ve decided to reveal my identity then. You’ll know who I am because I’ll be in robes that are laced up in the back and my hairstyle will be unusual (for me at least). I hope you’ve had a wonderful Christmas and all … keep your eyes open for more owls …

XXX

Your secret admirer

“What does it say?” asked Fred. “Hmm … robes that are laced up in the back … it’s a girl then … what bloke would … except … a bloke who would be sending you love letters might wear such robes …”

“Shut up, Fred,” said George, irritated. He had a very bad feeling about that admirer.


	8. There's More To Life Than This

Harry ran his hand through his hair nervously. He wasn’t really sure why he was so nervous, he knew most of the people who were attending the party, but it might be the fact that this was a party. He only had a vague idea of how one should act at a party like this, and he was afraid he might do something odd.

Mr and Mrs Weasley had left that afternoon for Birmingham, where Mrs Weasley’s sister lived. She threw a party every New Year’s Eve. Mrs Weasley had fussed a lot, making sure that the twins weren’t up to anything and so on. Harry had had trouble not snickering when Mrs Weasley had asked Fred and George not to do any silly business. Ron had excused himself and Hermione had a pained look on her face. When Mr and Mrs Weasley had finally Disapparated, they had all burst out laughing, though Hermione recovered very quickly.

Ron came in, dressed in blue robes, looking a bit happier than the last time he had been in dress robes. He was wringing his hands, looking anxious.

“What’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“Just …” Ron seemed to be about to say something, “nothing … forget it.” Harry looked at him curiously.

“No, wait …” Ron seemed to have changed his mind again. “Reckon there’s going to be dancing like at Yule Ball?”

“I’ve no idea,” said Harry, “I’ve never been to a party.” He hadn’t thought of that, dancing wasn’t something he planned on doing.

“If it’s going to be so … do you think I should ask Hermione to dance?” Ron’s ears were now in that shade of maroon his old dress robes had been. 

“Do you want to?” Harry suppressed a grin. Ron looked down and nodded. “Ask her then,” suggested Harry.

“Do you think she would want to?” Ron then asked. 

“I think so,” said Harry, trying to sound nonchalant. Ron didn’t say anything but his ears seemed grow even redder, if such thing was possible.

They didn’t speak any further till they were both ready to go downstairs. Hardly anybody had arrived except Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson, who were both with the twins in the kitchen.

“What’s that?” George was asking as Harry and Ron entered the kitchen. He was pointing to some bottles which stood on the table.

“Oh, that’s champagne,” said Angelina.

“Cham … what?” George had picked one up and was trying to remove the aluminium foil on the top.

“Champagne, it’s a Muggle wine, sparkling wine. It’s apparently a tradition to drink it on New Year’s Eve,” she said. George raised his eyebrows and finished removing the aluminium foil and the wire. He then tugged at the cork and jumped back when it flew out of the bottle with a loud pop and a fountain of wine was sprayed in George’s face. The kitchen rang with laughter.

Harry wandered out of the kitchen and met Hermione and Ginny. They both looked very pretty. Hermione was dressed in a Muggle dress and Ginny was in the dress robes she had worn at the Yule Ball last year.

“So, what’s going on in the kitchen?” asked Hermione.

“Oh, just inspection of the beverages that will be served tonight. I think we might be expecting some aggressive champagne,” said Harry.

“Alcohol?!?” exclaimed Hermione, horrified, and rushed to the kitchen, which left Harry and Ginny alone. He looked shyly at her and he remarked that she had done something to her hair. It was in a bun, from which a few strands seemed to have escaped. Harry thought it looked nice.

“So did Lee bring any music?” Ginny asked. Harry looked at her quizzically. He hadn’t thought about that. Ginny noticed his puzzled look.

“Let’s check it out then.” She tugged at his sleeve and led him to the living room. Lee indeed seemed to have brought some music with him. There was a Muggle CD player with few CD cases and something that to Harry looked like an ancient radio.

“Oh, what’s this?” said Ginny in a curious tone, examined the CD player.

“It’s a CD player but how it is supposed to work here, I don’t know. I mean, there’s no electricity here,” said Harry as he picked up the CD-player. 

“It’s probably charmed,” said Ginny, “something my father would be very interested in.”

“Let’s try if it works,” said Harry and picked a random CD from the case, loaded the CD-player and pressed play. Immediately, music blared out of it. Ginny’s eyes were alight with interest.

“Oh, I like Muggle music,” she squealed. “Did you see the name of this band or whatever this is?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, “Blur or something like that …” Ginny was starting to sing along, “girls who like boys to girls …”

Harry had turned his attention to that the thing that looked like an ancient radio, but he couldn’t find any buttons to operate it. He was poking at something he suspected were the speakers when he felt someone touch his arm.

“Let me show you,” said Ginny and brought forth her wand.

“Can you do that? Do magic, I mean?” Harry asked flabbergasted.

“No, you just have to touch the Wizard Jukebox with your wand to activate it, no spelling involved, and then you request the song you want to listen to. Hmmm … Lee is bound to have Sorcery Rox with the Weird Sisters,” said Ginny and prodded the Jukebox. Very quickly music started sounding and Harry recognized a fast paced song he had heard at the Yule Ball. He smiled towards Ginny and she shot him a smile back.

The guests were beginning to arrive while they were looking through the music. Soon Harry was chatting about Quidditch and O.W.Ls preparing to people like Oliver Wood, Ernie MacMillian and Roger Davies. Oliver introduced him to Serafina McQueen, a shorthaired and quick moving witch. Harry learned she was a reserve Seeker for the Appleby Arrows but was hoping to get transferred to the Bigonville Bombers in Luxembourg. He had to admit he was enjoying himself even though he was much more careful in the amount of mulled mead he was drinking. Seamus Finnigan had obviously been drinking it in generous amounts because he was barely standing straight. Ginny seemed to enjoying herself too, dancing around and obviously preferring fast paced songs. Now she was bouncing up and down to something he suspected was Muggle music. Mostly it was loud beats but there were very vague lyrics there, “You’re no good for me, I don’t need nobody, don’t need no one that’s no good for me …” 

Harry looked around and saw Ron standing alone, leaning against a wall. He was staring hard at the group of people who were dancing. Harry followed his gaze and saw he was focusing on Hermione, who was dancing in a very un-Hermione like manner. She was shaking her hips and moving her arms in rhythm with the music, looking quite enraptured.

“Dunno what she thinks she’s doing,” whispered Ron when Harry approached him, “she was drinking that fizzy Muggle wine and now she’s behaving like that.” Harry raised his eyebrow; that seemed to be very unlike Hermione. Something told him that they must have had an argument but he decided that he wouldn’t ask Ron about it. That could prove to be rather touchy subject. He just hoped that it wouldn’t make them awkward towards each other.

~~~

“Mista luvar, luvar, mista luvar, luvar, girl, mista luver, luver, she call me mista bombastic say me fantastic!” Ginny was getting a sore throat from singing along with all the songs. Those Muggle tunes were so much fun and she learned the lyrics very quickly. One day she was going to go to a Muggle club to dance. Too bad most of the boys didn’t want to dance. Fred and George were of course jumping around and doubly so when the fastest tracks came on. Lee had also joined in the fun but mostly it had been the girls who danced. Hermione was showing a new side to her, she was quite the dancer and Ginny noticed that the guys were giving her eye. Maybe it was the Muggle dress or the way Hermione was moving her hips. Ginny shrugged, she wasn’t going to worry about Hermione, especially since it appeared that her brother had taken that role. 

Hermione’s Muggle dress stood out in the sea of dress robes with laced-up backs. A smile played on Ginny’s lips, poor George. He wouldn’t know who the secret admirer was until she would introduce herself. It looked like he would have an interesting night ahead of him.

Ginny looked for Harry and saw him standing with Ron, who was staring at Hermione with a rather sullen look on his face. They’d probably had a row and not had a chance to make up yet. Hopefully they would face up to reality soon. It didn’t seem like Harry was having much luck in talking to Ron – Ginny thought that maybe she should rescue him.

“Hey,” she said as she slid up to Harry, “having fun?” Harry nodded, but then pointed to Ron, “I don’t think he is though.”

“Let him wallow, he brought it upon himself, I believe,” she whispered to Harry so Ron wouldn’t hear her, though it didn’t seem like he were taking much notice of anything but Hermione. Suddenly Harry grabbed her arm and said, “Let’s go outside for a bit.” She nodded, her heart beating faster.

It was chilly, but the air was still and the sky was clear, decorated with thousands of stars. Ginny sighed, she loved a starry sky, though doing homework about it for Astronomy wasn’t always a pleasant task. Harry also looked like he appreciated the starry night sky.

“What do you supposed transpired between Ron and Hermione?” Harry asked her, a bit timidly. She couldn’t help but giggle.

“It does make you uncomfortable when things get tense between those two,” she looked at him sideways and saw he blushed slightly.

“Yeah, and I feel like I shouldn’t, you know, but it’s hard not to.” There was a trace of surrender in his voice. 

“Well, I suppose you’ve got to get used to it. Things are clearly heading in one direction with those two.”

“You needn’t tell me,” he said and sighed. “Funny how these things end up, I mean with liking people and all that.” Ginny turned to look at him, could he be saying something? He didn’t look at her, but kept his eyes fixed on the sky instead. She could feel uncomfortable silence creeping up on them, and decided to change the subject.

“Who do you think it is?” she asked hurriedly.

“Huh?” he looked quizzically at her.

“George’s secret admirer. Almost all the girls were wearing robes like the letter described.” 

“Really? Poor George. Let’s hope she’s his type then.”

“Yeah, though I wouldn’t be able to describe his type exactly. And think! I’ve known him all my life. I suppose no one but yourself can know your type, and maybe not even then. What do you think, Harry? You know your type?” As soon as that question had left Ginny’s lips, she wanted to kick herself. Was she ready to hear any answer from Harry on the subject? He seemed to be taken aback by the question.

“Err, I don’t know what to say,” he said and his cheeks were quite red. “I know what girls I think are pretty and all that … but my type?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you or anything,” she said quickly. He didn’t answer but shook his head unconvincingly and the uncomfortable silence returned. The music inside could be heard faintly and Ginny decided to concentrate on the song. 

“Let's sneak out of this party, it's getting boring, there's more to life than this, it's still early morning, we could go down to the harbor, and jump between the boats, and see the sun come up…” Somehow she felt this applied to her and Harry and where they were now. They had snuck out of the party and there was something more to it than their need to talk about Ron and Hermione and George’s secret admirer. Was it because they wanted to be together alone?

She dared a glance in Harry’s direction and saw he was looking at her, she didn’t look away though, for she felt his gaze locking her in. His eyes were so incredibly green, she couldn’t help but stare into them and they seemed to get closer and closer. She felt the need to tilt her head a bit but the reason why never entered her mind, she was acting on pure instinct. And then, their lips touched and it was like something exploded in Ginny’s mind. Never in her entire life, had she felt anything like this. Harry was gripping her forearm in an attempt to pull her closer and she felt the brim of his glasses nearly cutting into her nose but she didn’t care. All she ever wanted to do was to kiss Harry and be kissed by him.

After what Ginny thought was eternity, they stopped. Both flushed and out of breath, they regarded each other with a shy glance.

“That was … err …” Ginny couldn’t find the right word, she was sure there was no word that could describe it. Harry was silent, but a smile flickered on his lips. She reached forward and took his hand. He squeezed it slightly and she couldn’t help herself, she stepped closer to him and laid her head on his chest. Immediately she felt his arms encircle her.

“Do you mind us staying like this for a little while?” she asked and she felt him laugh, his chest vibrating slightly.

“I wouldn’t mind if we stayed like this all night,” he said, drawing her even closer. 

Ginny had no sense how long they had stood there embracing each other, a few minutes or the whole night, when a loud scream from inside the Burrow made them jump apart. They looked quickly at each other and then rushed inside. The sight that greeted them, was one of terror. Everyone present stood in a deformed looking circle. Ginny couldn’t see what seemed to be happening but from the way Harry was gripping her shoulder, it had to be something horrible. The looks on everybody’s faces and the sound of their voices, it was much like how things had been at the third task of the Triwizard Tournament when Harry had returned with Cedric’s body.

“What is it?” she whispered but then someone moved and she saw inside the circle. She turned cold right away; Lee Jordan was holding Percy like a hostage, pointing his wand at her brother’s throat.


	9. Not Quite Expected

Hermione could swear that her shoes had been filled with lead. She wished that she had never heard about this party. Not only did she worry about how Mr and Mrs Weasley would react if they found out, she was also worrying about her appearance. That mental note she had made after the Yule Ball last year had been pushed aside. Again she had to endure the agony of picking out a dress, fixing her hair and putting on make-up. She was just glad Ginny had helped her. They had decided on a dress that Hermione’s mother had given to her for Christmas. It was black velvet and sleeveless. Having her arms bare bothered Hermione somewhat and she decided to have her hair loose so her shoulders and the top of her arms would be hidden. Ginny had laughed heartily when Hermione had declared that make-up applying should be considered an act of bravery. Who in their right mind would want to bring a wand with something resembling tar close to their eyes? 

Even after all these ministrations, Hermione was unhappy with the way she looked. She felt self-conscious and she couldn’t help but remember the last time she was dressed up and the horrendous way that evening had ended.

Ginny was making her way down the stairs and Hermione followed. There was some noise to be heard from the kitchen, it was obvious some guests had arrived. 

As they were reaching the bottom of the stairs, they met Harry. Hermione couldn’t help but note that he was eyeing Ginny. Behind him, there was an obvious commotion in the kitchen and Hermione had to ask what it was.

“Oh, just inspection of the beverages that will be served tonight. I think we might be expecting some aggressive champagne,” Harry said nonchalantly. What?!? Suddenly she felt more than anxious.

“Alcohol?” she said, before rushing into the kitchen to find out for herself. Inside the kitchen, she found Ron, Fred, George, Angelina and Lee laughing very hard.

“What’s happening?” she asked them, trying very hard not to sound panicky. 

“Oh, just trying out the champagne,” said George, “wanna taste?” Hermione was appalled. They were all, except Angelina, too young to drink. What was everyone thinking?

“I can’t believe you’re going to serve alcohol at this party. I mean … I think it’s bad enough you’re throwing this party without your parents knowing, but serving alcohol …” she couldn’t finish because Ron cut in.

“In Prefect mode, are we?” he remarked.

“I’m not in Prefect mode, it’s just that I don’t think it’s a good idea that people are going to drink at the party,” she hissed through her clenched teeth. It was so typical of Ron to think that her concern was nothing but an attempt from her to be bossy. “Most of us are too young anyway.”

“Too young, you say, I don’t remember you saying anything when Karkaroff was offering Krum mulled wine last year. How is this different?” Ron had crossed his arms. Hermione clenched her fists. Was this just to irritate her?

“Ron, it was for his medical benefit, he was ill and besides he was eighteen at the time,” she replied.

“Well, this shows your double standards. You don’t think it’s ok to drink underage but dating someone who can is ok.” Ron was obviously clenching his jaws. Hermione felt a jolt of anger in her stomach. Where did he find these illogical arguments?

“What do you mean? Those are two separate things, underage drinking and dating someone who is old enough to drink. It’s not about double standards,” she told him, trying to keep her voice calm.

“Oh, that’s just an excuse. Rules apply to anyone but yourself, don’t you see? You just carry on doing what you please with Vicky boy, or should I say man, thinking that since it’s you, Hogwarts’ own golden girl, no one will think any less of you. Well, I do. I think you’re a hypocrite for condemning one thing and then doing what you please. Maybe those howlers were right …” Ron wasn’t able to finish for she cut in, feeling angrier towards him than she had ever before.

“Get out of my sight, Ron, before I do something to you I might regret,” she hissed in a low voice and reached into the small pocket she had sewn on her dress for her wand. Ron looked startled but something in her countenance told him she meant business. He turned on his heel and left the kitchen. 

Hermione then suddenly remembered that she wasn’t alone in the kitchen and she turned around and saw the twins, Lee and Angelina staring at her. They all looked somewhat astounded, but the boys’ shoulders started to shake in silent laughter. Angelina looked sternly at them and approached Hermione.

“That was quite a fight,” Angelina said tentatively, “I suppose Ron’s gone somewhere to sulk.”

“I don’t care,” Hermione tossed her head as if to shake off any thoughts of Ron.

“Well, don’t let it ruin the party for you. No boy is worth that,” said Angelina and raised her eyebrows at her boyfriend at her boyfriend, who looked ready to argue.

“Well, I think Ron made it perfectly clear that he thinks I won’t be able to have any fun because I’m too prissy.” Hermione huffed and then mumbled to herself, “I’ll show him prissy.” She looked over at the kitchen table where bottles of champagne were lined up. If she could get one glass and walk into the living room, she would show him. 

“Can I have a sip?” she asked and gestured at the bottles. The twins and Lee looked curiously at her but George poured her a glass anyway.

“Do you think that drinking is going to show him anything?” Angelina sounded concerned but Hermione didn’t care for anyone’s opinion at the moment. She took her glass and went into the hallway.

A few people had arrived while she’d been in the kitchen and they all greeted her. Justin Finch-Fletchley smiled in a peculiar fashion when she greeted him and then cocked his head and asked her how she was doing in a manner that sounded very strange in his refined accent. She could help but stare at him rather alarmed but accepted his offer to get a refill for her then-emptied champagne glass.

The sparkling wine got quickly to her head, making her feel giddy. There was no denying that it was a pleasant change from feeling resentful towards Ron. Actually she had forgotten why on earth she was angry towards Ron, especially when she was laughing merrily at some joke Ernie MacMillan was telling her. 

Ron finally decided to make an appearance in the living room but the sight of him didn’t reignite her anger, quite the contrary. He was actually looking very fine in those new robes of his, that accented what all that Quidditch training was doing for him. Well, he didn’t look like he was going to be much fun, so no need to waste breath on him, she thought as she accepted yet another glass of champagne from Justin. 

 

~~~~

 

Ron had retreated to his room after Hermione had dismissed him from the kitchen. It hadn’t occurred to him at the time that it would have been more logical for her to storm out off the kitchen than to tell him to leave it. He had just become so angry at her for obviously not intending to have a good time that he lost all reason. When he had arrived upstairs, he had grabbed an old Remembrall that was lying on his desk and smashed it against the wall. Why had he brought up Krum? He bet that now Hermione was comparing them and remembering his display of immaturity earlier and the worst thing was that sooner or later he would have to face her again. Would they be able to sweep this under the carpet as they had done to some of their previous arguments?

He sat on his bed, hugging his knees for a long while. The thoughts in his head seemed to go in circles but one thing seemed to have seeped through his frustration with Hermione, why wasn’t he downstairs partying and trying to forget about the fight? He might even have to talk to Hermione, she was probably still in the kitchen, preventing people from drinking.

It came as a surprise to him to see how many had come to the party. The living room was absolutely bursting at the seams. Ron was glad that the Burrow was equipped with a Stretching Charm. He bumped into Oliver Wood who had to give him few Quidditch pointers but just as he turned from Wood, he saw Hermione. 

Hermione wasn’t giving lectures on the dangers of underage drinking. She was sipping on something that had to be champagne. What had happened while he had been up in his room? Ron moved closer to her but when she caught his eye, she turned away and kept on talking to Justin Finch-Fletchley. Since when did she know him? Ron clenched his fists and fought the urge to go and punch him. Instead he turned on his heel and retreated to the darkest corner of the living room where he watched the party in an even worse mood than before. 

He watched the party like a play that he wasn’t very interested in. The people talking, laughing, eating, drinking and dancing. Only Hermione’s actions interested him and to his amazement, she was soon on the dance floor. His eyes widened when she began dancing. Never had he thought she could dance like that, swaying her hips in a manner he couldn’t help but find. She had to be drunk because he knew very well that a sober Hermione would never dance like that. What had got into her?

When Harry approached him, Ron voiced his concern to him but when Harry didn’t seem to have the same concerns about her, Ron partly ignored him. Ginny came to save Harry few minutes later and Ron was glad, at least Harry’s night wouldn’t be ruined. 

The next half hour passed in some kind of blur where Ron watched Hermione flirt with various boys and accept some more glasses of champagne. He felt jealous but thought it was best to keep those feelings under control because he knew if he would try to intervene, Hermione would yell at him. There was just so much tension he was ready to endure for one night. His focus was again directed solely to watching Hermione and now it was obvious she was drunk. She seemed to be rather wobbly and it looked like she might pass out anytime. Ron became anxious, he had a feeling that Hermione would be deeply ashamed if she would passed out now. He decided to rescue her and risk that she wouldn’t like it. No one seemed to give Hermione much notice right now. Even Justin’s attention had been diverted. Ron was glad and he was able to make his way to Hermione without anyone getting in his way.

“You here?” said Hermione in a thick voice when he put an arm around her and ushered her out of the living room. He said nothing, he was feeling very aware that his hand was around her waist and her arm was draped around his shoulders. This close proximity was having funny effects on him. The sooner he could let go off her, the better.

The door to Ginny’s room was slightly ajar so Ron kicked it open without letting go of Hermione.

“Why are we here?” she asked, giggling.

“I think you could do with a nap,” Ron answered as he gently pushed her on Ginny’s bed.

“But I don’t want to nap, I want to do something else,” she said and suddenly she had linked her hands around his neck and was pushing him onto the bed. He was caught by surprise and all of a sudden he was sitting on the bed with Hermione sitting in his lap.

“This is more what I had in mind,” she purred and then her lips were upon his. It was like lighting had struck inside of Ron, his senses seemed to be on overload. His lips were crushing to his teeth in an almost painful manner and he had trouble kissing her back since he was pinned to the wall, but he didn’t care. Hermione was kissing him and that was something he had dreamt of for quite some time. Slowly he brought his hands to her sides and gently shifted her in his lap so he could kiss her back. He broke the kiss as he wrapped her in his arms, just so he could catch his breath. In the dusky light in the bedroom, he could see that she was flushed and he had to admit that he had seldom seen her as beautiful. Again their lips met and this time the kiss was softer, yet more intimate. Her hands were in his hair while he kept his firmly on the small of her back. Soon her hands began to travel, from his head, over his shoulder, down his chest and … he took a sharp breath, she began unfastening his robes. While he had to admit that being touched by Hermione was even more wonderful than he had ever thought, something was telling that things were progressing too fast. With strength of will he never knew he possessed, he removed her hands from inside his robes and then pushed her of his lap.

“Hermione, as much as I like this, I think we should stop,” he whispered, “I mean, you really should have a nap and we can talk in the morning.” He stood up and had her lie down on in the bed. “Go to sleep.” She didn’t protest so he put a blanket over her and left the room. As he was about to close the bedroom door, a loud scream came from downstairs with the sound of many panicked voices. Ron stood there frozen for a moment and jumped when he heard a tiny whisper behind him.

“Ron, what’s happening?” Hermione stood there with the blanket wrapped around her. He tried shrugging his shoulders but that came across as a shiver. The panic in the voices downstairs seemed to rise, she gave him a determined look and took his hand in hers.

They stopped, dead frozen when they reached the bottom of the stairs. The scene before made him squeeze her hand, both to protect her and to find reassurance. Lee Jordan was standing there with his wand pointed at an ashen-faced Percy.


	10. Sour Taste

The party was in full swing and George was having fun talking about Quidditch with his old teammates, Oliver Wood and Serafina McQueen. Serafina had been the Gryffindor Seeker the first year he had been on the team. They were actually rather miffed that he and Fred weren’t going to play Quidditch professionally. George couldn’t help but be amused and told Oliver that he was ready to join any team where Oliver was captain, for he would be the only one who could whip the twins into shape.

“Just between the two of us, Harry is good at game strategies but he doesn’t wake you up at five in the morning threatening you with everlasting Furniculus hex if you don’t get your arse down to the Quidditch pitch in five minutes,” George told Oliver, who grinned.

The endless mass of girls seemed as intimidating as ever. It was hard to focus on a single one, not to mention that the clues he’d been given were completely useless. Dresses with laced-up backs seemed to be all the rage this year. He even had a hard time finding his sister among them despite her very prominent hair colour but he finally caught sight of her, cosily chatting with Harry in the corner. George suppressed a smile. Harry probably was now trying to figure what had hit him now Ginny was revealing more of her personality to him. 

“Seen the secret admirer yet?” Fred had sneaked upon his brother. “She could be hiding under someone’s robes. House-elves are tiny, y’know.” 

“Shut up, Fred. I’m not in the mood for this right now,” George retorted.

“Not seen her yet?” Fred asked, more serious. 

“What do you think? All I see is this whole sea of girls and none of them is someone I’d like to be the secret admirer.” 

“Cheer up, they ain’t all bad.” This caused George to raise his eyebrows at his brother. Fred was in no position to comment on this, he had Angelina. Thankfully, he got the hint and turned away to join in a chat about Quidditch between Alicia, one of the Hufflepuff Chasers and Roger Davies.

The swarm of girls shimmered before him like a school of herring. Why didn’t she just come up to him and reveal her who she was? Those thoughts occupied George’s mind as he made his way through the throng of people in the living room. His speculations were interrupted when he bumped into someone, who squealed, 

“Oh, there you are. I have been looking for you all night. It’s me.” George blinked and saw that the girl was Parvati Patil, one of Ron’s classmates.

“Huh?” was the first thing he uttered, but then he realized why she’d been looking for him. “Are you her?” he asked perplexed. She giggled and nodded hurriedly.

“Really?” George found it hard to comprehend that his secret admirer was no longer so secret. She just kept nodding and was starting to twiddle her thumbs.

“Err … do you want to go somewhere and talk?” George looked nervously at her but she just nodded again very excitedly. They made their way from the living room up the stairs to his room. When they entered the room, he awkwardly invited her to sit on his bed. He really was at loss, what was he supposed to talk to her about?

“So, Fred and you share a room?” Parvati finally asked. George nodded.

“Padma and I have separate rooms.”

“Oh,” said George indifferently. 

“So, aren’t you going to ask me?” She straightened up and looked at him. Ask her what? He was bewildered. What on earth was he supposed to do with her? His mind refused to slow down, a million thoughts circled around in his head and he had to fight the urge to run away. Parvati’s brown eyes still stared at him like she expected him to break into song and dance.

“So, err … about those notes and things.” George paused, not sure if he wanted to ask the next question. “You, er, d’you fancy me or something?”

“Yeah,” said Parvati and blushed. “I like you very much. I think I love you.” George blinked. How was she able to say something like this? She hadn’t even talked to him at all. Her way of communication had been leaving notes in his schoolbag and clean laundry. She couldn’t possibly understand the complexity of love. Holy anger seemed to be bubbling inside him and he wanted to yell at her for invading his privacy and then telling him she loved him. Merlin’s beard, what was he supposed to say to that?

Parvati on the other hand, wasn’t very interested in what he had to say. She nudged a bit near him and took him by surprise by reaching forward and kissing him. He was completely unprepared for that sort of assault so he acted on his first instinct, which was to kiss her back. That seemed to encourage her for her kisses became more passionate and her hands moved up to grip his shoulders. 

George felt his mind go blank as the mixed feelings he had previously been experiencing vanished. The girl was a very good kisser and why should he be peeved about few notes that had appeared on his pillow and in his shoe? He was kissing a pretty girl who wanted to kiss him very much. Slowly she reclined on the bed and pulled George with her. Her small hands were travelling up and down his back while he rested his weight on his right arm as he stroked his left hand up her neck. Her skin was smooth to the touch. He was gradually surrendering to his senses; smelling her scent, tasting her lips, touching her. His hands searched her high and low and finally found their way to her hair. He was sure he would find long, thick locks he would be able to run his fingers through. That was just wishful thinking because as soon as his hands touched her hair, his finger got caught in a hair clip and his trance was broken. The moment of revelation was upon him. This making out with Parvati was purely a hormonal driven thing. He didn’t feel a thing for her; she was just a pretty girl he knew nothing about.

He broke their kiss abruptly and raised himself in the bed. She rose too, looking confused.

“What is it, George?” she whispered.

“It’s just … I don’t know you or anything and you don’t know me. You never bothered to get to know me, just sent me notes and when I finally got to know who you were, you just wanted to snog me, not talk.” George bit his lip. He was very afraid he would hurt her, something he would rather like to avoid. Her eyes seemed to grow in size and she frowned.

“Don’t you like me?” she murmured. He swallowed and closed his eyes; she was going to be hurt by what he had to say.

“No, I’m sorry but I don’t like you. You’re probably a great person, I know I find you pretty and all but there’s no real attraction.” Her only response was a slight sigh and she turned away from him. He couldn’t help but feel rotten for breaking her heart into a million pieces. They sat there in silence for awhile until Parvati decided to break the silence. Her voice was only a whisper. 

“Did I make a huge mistake?” 

“Err ... I … this wasn’t a very good method you used.” George could see that her eyes were starting to well up.

“I … thought you would find this fun … and I was also afraid you wouldn’t take me seriously if I’d just started flirting with you.” She had her head turned away from him as she spoke, obviously avoiding his eyes. George felt more sorry for her with each minute. Her words had hit a nerve. Was he shielding behind his practical joker front? His thoughts were interrupted when Parvati cleared her throat and asked, “Would you mind terribly if I’ve could be alone here for few minutes?” He didn’t respond, just nodded, got up and left the room. He paused in the corridor, leaned against the wall and grabbed his forehead.

Deep in thought, he made his way downstairs where the guests were apparently having the fun he had hoped to have. He might as well do some washing up. It would be wiser to have the glasses and crockery clean when his parents returned home. The kitchen was deserted and it seemed that the supplies of drinks were finally becoming exhausted. There were crisps strewn across the floor and someone must have spilled butterbeer on the floor, for it was sticky. George couldn’t help but sigh. This meant he’d have to pull up his sleeves and clean. As he was pouring hot water into a bucket, he heard a familiar voice in the hallway.

“What’s going on here?” the voice could be heard saying sternly. He gritted his teeth. This was Percy and when he found his younger brothers, they could be sure that all hell would break loose. With a swift glance over the kitchen, George searched for a hiding place. That was no chance that he was going to be the one who would deal with an irate Percy, the evening had been bad enough. Fred and Ron were welcome to deal with this mess. He made a quick decision, it seemed that the pantry would be the perfect hiding place …

 

~~~

 

“Mmm,” was the answer Angelina gave Fred as he began his assault on her neck. He pressed himself to her and silently hoped that the pantry table wouldn’t give from their combined weight. This retreating to the pantry had been a spur of the moment decision. They were completely caught up in the moment and didn’t notice when jars and cutlery came crashing to the floor. Angelina reclined fully on the table and pulled Fred to her. Their mouths met again and he began to crawl up the table. Soon he was resting on his forearms, kissing her deeply while her hands were travelling up and down his back. Slowly he eased her dress of her shoulders as she pushed apart his robes. Fred had completely surrendered to his senses as all reason had been banished like a boggart from his brain. Angelina was well on her way of unfastening his robes and as she hoisted herself higher on the table, he used the chance to sneak his hand up her skirt.

All of a sudden, a ray of light fell on Angelina’s face. Fred froze, still with his hand high on her thigh.

“Oh, I didn’t know anyone was here. Oh, is it you, Fred?”

“Of course it’s me, George. Who did you think it would be here with Angelina?” Fred was quite annoyed.

“Err, it’s just … Percy is here,” George said with a panic in his voice. Fred’s annoyance was quickly washed away, replaced with anxiety. He swore strongly and Angelina who was busy adjusting her dress, exclaimed half indignant, half amused, “Watch your mouth, Fred Weasley.”

“We are in trouble.” George nodded. Fred sighed, there was only one thing possible in this situation. They had to face Percy. 

“You go first,” Fred said to his brother, hoping that if George went first, he would take the most heat. It was obvious to Fred that the state of his robes and Angelina’s for that matter, would not help winning any argument he would have with Percy right now.

As they emerged from the pantry, they could see that the look on Percy’s face conveyed exactly how displeased he was with what was happening at the Burrow. 

“I presume you two are responsible for this,” he said, coolly, catching the twins off guard, for they had expected him to blow the gasket right away. 

“Err … you could say that,” said Fred after awhile, “just having few people over for fun. No harm in that.” Percy wasn’t amused. 

“I don’t need to ask if you have permission for this. Of all the things … have you any idea how perilous it is to have such a large gathering of under-aged wizards without any supervision? Especially in times like these?” It was obvious to Fred that this was Percy, the Ministry official speaking.

“Hey, look here. We are practically full-licensed ourselves and Wood and McQueen are here. Then there are the wards here at Burrow. No one will have an easy time getting through them.” Fred had straightened himself so Percy wouldn’t have such advantage with his extra two inches.

“Really? And tell me, was it hard to take the wards into account when you were charming the Portkeys?” Percy raised an eyebrow in question.

“We know the wards,” answered George. Fred nodded although he knew that Percy had a point. Even though the twins were pretty clever, they had no guaranty that some ill-willed wizard wouldn’t be as clever.

“Not to mention our parents. Didn’t you think for a minute about Mum?”

“Yeah, we were kind of hoping that she wouldn’t notice,” said Fred, feeling quite lame. 

“Not notice? Not notice that at least forty people are crammed here in the house? I’m just amazed that you’re still this irresponsible at the age of seventeen. Besides going behind our parents’ back and disregarding all security measures, you are offering alcohol to minors and Merlin knows what else. I suggest you ask your guests to leave now but don’t think that will get you off the hook.” Percy meant business. The twins exchanged defeated looks. 

“It’s best to do what he says,” whispered George. The twins were on their way out of the kitchen when Lee Jordan whom Fred hadn’t noticed standing there, spoke up,

“Cut this self-righteous crap, Percy Weasley. You always think you’re right about everything. You were that way at Hogwarts and I see you’re still that way.” Everyone who heard, stopped still.

“I beg your pardon,” said Percy quite alarmed. 

“You heard me. I have no idea why you are so full of yourself, you must be compensating for something more than just the fact that you’re a flea-bitten Weasley.” As Lee uttered these words, Fred felt a sour taste in his mouth. He couldn’t be hearing right, Lee would never say something like that.

“Lee, what’s wrong with you?” Angelina uttered flabbergasted.

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with me. I’m just telling like it is. Finally, the Weasleys are going to get it. They walk around, oblivious to the fact that everything they pretend to uphold, are things that undermine the Wizarding world. Their self-righteous, Muggle-loving ways have destroyed people and will continue to do so.” There was fever-like gaze in Lee’s eyes while George kept mouthing words that also were echoing in Fred’s head,

“This is madness!”

“Oh, you think I’m mad. You know nothing about madness, nothing!!” Lee grinned and stuck his wand out. It happened so quickly that Fred didn’t have time to register what had happened until suddenly Lee had Percy in his grip, pointing at his throat with his wand and in a rasp voice he proclaimed,

“Don’t even try to save him. He’ll be dead even before any of you will have touched their wand.”


	11. Clear Sky, Stormy Heart

Marcus was displeased with the fact that it looked like it would be a clear night. He preferred the night sky to be dark and gloomy. Perhaps this was one of reasons why he had hated astronomy so much, for it would have been fine with him if the moon and the stars didn’t exist. He had often wondered about his sentiments and he had realized this was tied-in with his view on the world. Everything was either black or white - weak or strong. Anything in-between was not worth consideration. Those things did nothing to further his ambition. That was the main reason he had accepted his job as a groundkeeper’s assistant. Even though he couldn’t get a position on any Quidditch team, he could have used his connections to get some decent job. It was his belief that if he couldn’t get exactly what he wanted, he wasn’t settling for second best, something that could be referred to as “nice”.

 

His life had never been as empty as now. A week off work due to the holidays and he had nothing to return to but his empty apartment. He knew well that his parents had no desire to have contact with them. So he spent Christmas alone, sitting in the dark and contemplating what he was going to do on New Year’s Eve. He had done as Draco had suggested and got himself some Polyjuice Potion. Pretty easy if you knew the right people. That filthy little apothecary in Knockturn Alley, run by a mean-looking old wizard called Venomus Jigger, brother to Arsenius Jigger who had written a Potions school book, provided almost any concoction a Dark wizard would need. The potion was now in a vial with a Preserving Charm and he kept it on him at all times. His whole plan rested on this. He wanted the Weasleys to suffer, to think that someone they trusted had betrayed them. This desire to lash out had grown stronger with every day as he remembered that his sister was gone forever.

 

Yet the finality of death fascinated him to no end. It fit into his way to see the world in extremes. There was life and then there was death. No middle ground whatsoever. At times he thought about killing someone. Being able to kill was a power. Tantalising power. He would become a killer one day, there was no doubt about that in his mind. He could never imagine using the Killing Curse - just forming the words in his mind transported him to the moment Delilah died and he relived that throat-gripping raw grief and terror. Violence would be his tool, like it had always been. He had been renowned for his brutality at Hogwarts. Using his fists was how he dealt with any complication. There was something deeply fulfilling to find his knuckles crush flesh to find the hardness of the bone underneath. Seeing someone bleed because of him. 

 

This time he wasn’t out for fight though he would love to see some blood. Those Weasleys. Soon enough they would taste the bitterness he had in abundance. They would know loss. Know how it felt to have something viciously ripped from their existences. Something they’d always believe would be a part of their lives. A family member. It would be the perfect revenge, for he knew how close they were. It was obvious from how disgustingly affectionate they were with each other. Was that the reason why Delilah had fallen for one of them? Perhaps she was drawn to something she had never known herself. Affection was alien to the Flint family. 

 

The sound of laughter was carried from the street outside and he glanced at his watch to check the time. He supposed that the Weasley’s party would have started by now so he should get going though it would just take him a moment to get there. It was easy enough to Apparate to the Weasley’s place. There was just the matter of going carefully because those Weasleys might have put up anti-Apparition wards around their habitat. Not that it worried him for he suspected the twins to have fiddled a bit with the wards to make sure that their party guests would arrive safely to the party and of course, he wouldn’t be Apparating straight into the party. In his mind there was a vague plan that involved hiding outside the Weasley’s residence and waiting for someone. If that wouldn’t work, he would have to sneak in but he hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. It was guaranteed that someone would have to step out due to lack of bathroom facilities. 

 

It would only require a simple stunning hex and a strand of hair, and he would be ready to enter the party without suspicion. Then he would strike. He went over this in his mind few times to gain focus. To rid the mind of all unnecessary feelings. To leave it fertile for revenge. All he would reap would be vengeance. 

 

He took a deep breath and reached for his travelling cloak, felt for the Polyjuice Potion vial and made ready for Apparition. Seconds later he had landed in the bushes, a hundred yards or so from the Weasley house. He saw the illuminated windows and shadows moving inside. The party was in full swing. He crept closer. The house was exactly what he expected it to be. An overgrown shack. Fitting for the Weasleys. He crept nearer, hiding behind bushes and keeping an eye out to see if someone was entering or exiting. Soon he saw there were two entrances to the house. One front door and an entrance that probably led to the kitchen. He just needed to find an adequate place to hide and to watch. 

 

There were bushes and trees close to the house and soon enough he found the perfect hiding place. In a cluster of bushes, a part of the branches seemed to have been removed from middle. Surely some Weasley kid had done this in order to make a hiding place. There was a good view of the kitchen doors from there and if he strained his neck a little, he was able to make out the main entrance. He wrapped his cloak tight and waited for something to happen. 

 

The weather was still and it wasn’t unreasonably cold so he was more then prepared to sit for a while. Nevertheless, his wait didn’t last for very long. The front door was opened and two figures emerged. They walked in the opposite direction from him so he didn’t make them out right away. There was a glimpse of red hair so one had to be a Weasley, probably the girl since this seemed to be a fairly small person and a taller person with dark hair. Then he caught the flash of glasses. Might be Potter. Of course they had to be two. He wasn’t going to risk attacking two people. The girl would scream bloody murder if he stunned Potter and besides he wasn’t going to risk taking on Potter since the Dark Lord himself had run in trouble while duelling with the boy. He had heard the rumours.

 

He turned his attention back to the kitchen door. Sooner or later someone would come out to throw out garbage or escape the bathroom line. 

 

He didn’t have to wait longer than fifteen minutes for someone to emerge from the house. On the kitchen side. Someone who obviously had had a bit too much mead. He gloated inwardly. That should make things easier, he should be able to reach that person without them noticing. Slowly he got out of the bush, careful not to break any branch or twig. The person was facing a tree that stood away from the house. This was that kid, Jordan, friend of the twins. Obnoxious git who almost managed to ruin every Quidditch game with his inane commentary. It would be his pleasure to stun that knob head. He waited patiently for Jordan to finish his business, for he wasn’t keen on stunning someone with his trousers on his heels. As the chance came, he almost lazily branded his wand in the right direction and muttered distinctly: “Stupefy!” 

 

Jordan was obviously taken by complete surprise. He fell down, flat on his face. Marcus wasted no time, turned the unconscious body over and removed his dress robes. They were about the same size. Then he required a strand of Jordan’s hair for the Polyjuice Potion. That proved to be a slight problem. Jordan’s hair was all tangled into dreadlocks so he resorted to pluck Jordan’s eyelashes. He dropped the eyelash into the vial and watched as the potion became slightly purple in colour. He raised his eyebrows in amusement and then downed the potion, making a face over the revolting taste. Gradually he started to feel like his whole body was bubbling, he watched his hands and saw the colour of his skin changing, he felt the features of face morphing and his hair growing. Soon enough, the transformation was over. 

 

It was important not to waste time so he hurried inside. No one noticed his entrance. The kitchen seemed to be deserted but he was reluctant to make his way in the living room. He needed to get survey the situation before striking and he needed a good place to observe. Perhaps, if he sat by the fireplace there, quite hidden by shadows, he should be able to watch the party.

 

He had barely sat down when George Weasley made his way into the kitchen, seemingly preoccupied by something. He sighed loudly, probably over the mess the kitchen was in and he started to gather the trash. Then he proceeded to the sink, to fill a bucket with water. Marcus turned his gaze over to the hallway and into the living room and right away he caught the glimpse of someone Apparating in the hallway. It was Percy Weasley, who seemed to be taken aback to arrive in the middle of a party at his home. Marcus couldn’t help but smirk. He knew how uptight Percy Weasley was and he was sure to blow a gasket. This would be very interesting.

 

As Percy loudly inquired what was going on, Marcus averted his eyes over at George who looked thoroughly irritated and apparently looking for good hiding place. Quickly he retreated through a door that Marcus assumed had to lead to the pantry. His attention went to back to Percy, who stood red-faced in the door to the living room, demanding to know the whereabouts of his brothers. Someone seemed to think that they might be in the kitchen and so Percy stalked in that direction. Marcus noticed gleefully that Percy’s knuckles whitened as he took in the mess in the kitchen. Just as Percy stood there, George, Fred and one of the Gryffindor Chasers emerged from the pantry. The twins were obviously guilt-ridden, so very much that Marcus’s amusement almost made him forget his plan. 

 

Percy was irate. He began telling off his brothers in a formidable fashion and reminding Marcus all too much of his Hogwarts days when Percy was prone to give the same tirade to anyone who dared to so much as bend the school rules. He felt the bile gather in his throat. That pompous twit made him sick. It was time to act and he rose from his hiding place and as the twins were departing the kitchen, he spoke up.

 

“Cut this self-righteous crap, Percy Weasley. You always think you’re right about everything. You were that way at Hogwarts and I see you’re still that way.” To his gratification, this had instant effect. Everyone seemed to freeze. Percy looked at him bewildered.

 

“I beg your pardon,” he said.

 

“You heard me. I have no idea why you are so full of yourself, you must be compensating for something more than just the fact that you’re a flea-bitten Weasley.” It felt good to be finally able to put Percy Weasley in his place. Though soon enough he would be doing more than just putting him in his place. That Gryffindor Chaser interfered, using Jordan’s name. 

 

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with me. I’m just telling like it is. Finally, the Weasleys are going to get it. They walk around, oblivious to the fact that everything they pretend to uphold, are things that undermine the Wizarding world. Their self-righteous, Muggle-loving ways have destroyed people and will continue to do so.” The words came effortlessly from his mouth. He thought to himself, there I’ve said it. All he was ever willing to give up about his reasons to do what he was about to do and the reactions he got from the people around made it all more worth it. One of the Weasley twins whispered something about madness and it filled him with cold confidence. He would catch them by complete surprise. He turned to the Weasley twins.

 

“Oh, you think I’m mad. You know nothing about madness, nothing!!” He held back the urge to laugh. Instead he used the precious seconds while everyone was trying to register his words, to act. Within seconds, he had managed to grip Percy, get him in a deadlock and get the wand up. As he moved the wand tip to Percy’s throat, he watched the people around waking up to what was happening. He looked at them triumphantly.

 

“Don’t even try to save him. He’ll be dead even before any of you will have touched their wand.” He had just uttered these words when that Gryffindor Chaser let out a bone-shattering scream. Everyone’s attentions were now turned to this little scene and they were forming a circle around him. Some were talking in low, hurried voices and then one of the twins spoke up.

 

“Lee … mate … why?” Those precious few words were uttered in a broken voice. Marcus turned towards the speaker as he spasmodically gripped his hostage’s robes. He met a pale face, with eyes full of fear and as he looked over the crowd of people, he saw the same fear reflected in everybody’s eyes. It made him uneasy. Which was hard for him to understand. Hadn’t he set out to teach the Weasleys a proper lesson? Therefore he should be rejoicing at all signs that his plan was succeeding. He returned his attention to his hostage, who hadn’t moved a muscle. Percy’s face was unreadable, his features seemed set in stone. He jerked up Percy’s head so he would partially face him. The look in Percy’s eyes was unmistakable. This was a look he has seen before. The same look as Delilah had as she faced her death. 

 

At this moment, for the first time in his life, Marcus experienced empathy. He had felt what the other Weasleys were feeling now and he realized what he was about to do wouldn’t in any way make him feel better. This would never lessen the pain and this would never bring the grim satisfaction of hurting someone physically in a surge of rage. And it would never bring Delilah back. His existence would still be empty as ever. 

 

As his thoughts progressed, his grip on Percy loosened. Finally his wand hand fell slack. He took one look at the crowd, pushed Percy away and made way for the kitchen door. No one hindered his departure. He ran as fast as he could from the house, through the grounds until he was on the other side of the village. There he stopped, paused for a second and saw he was changing back. With his wand held high, he Disapparated.


	12. Epilogue

Slowly Harry drifted to consciousness. At first he wasn’t sure what had made him wake up, but then he felt the ache in his neck. He had fallen asleep in a chair with no support for his head. With a muffled groan, he straightened his back and adjusted his glasses. It took him few seconds to register where he was. He was in Ginny's room, and she was there - sleeping.

He studied her closer where she was lying on her bed. Her red hair was like a halo around her head and she had kicked the covers from her feet. She looked very pretty in her sleep, even when she brought her hand to her face to rub it and then turn on her side with a slight snore. 

There was a reason he’d ended up in her room. Surprisingly it didn’t have that much to do with what had transpired between them last night. It had more to do with him wanting to be there for her after seeing her brother nearly being killed. The events of last night had unsettled both of them. Their scarred souls had hurt last night. Instinctively he knew that they were connecting at that level. Sensing the pain within each other and understanding. He wasn’t very sure how all this was happening, but it was. It was at work inside him and steadily building up feelings for Ginny. There were so many things to look forward to. So many things to learn about Ginny, everything from her favourite colour to her fondest childhood memories. He felt excited. None of this came easily to him. The only certain thing about his future was that nothing was certain. Yet he had hope and he wished with all his heart that Ginny wanted to be a part of the hope. He looked back at her sleeping form, and wondered what Ron and Hermione would say when they knew what he was thinking.

Ron and Hermione. A small smile flickered on his lips. Even though he had still been in shock after the events last night, he had noticed that Ron had his arm around Hermione. He had also noticed that Hermione hadn’t returned to Ginny’s room all night. She might have come while he was sleeping but obviously she hadn’t stayed. Perhaps they had finally got together. This was going to be weird but he would get used to it. Besides they had to get used to him and Ginny. 

She stirred, her eyes slowly opening. He bit his lip to suppress a happy sigh; he didn’t want to startle her. She seemed to be aware of his presence because she turned to him and smiled. 

 

~~~

 

It hadn’t just been a dream. Harry was really there. He had been there the whole night. Well, if she should be honest, they hadn’t gone to bed until very late. For obvious reasons. She didn’t want Harry to go and he didn’t seem to want to leave her alone. There was no use asking him to share her bed, he had sat on the chair before she was able to say anything about it. Besides, it would have been awkward for them to share a bed the whole night.

“Ginny, are you awake?” Harry whispered.

“Hmmm …” was her reply as she raised herself slightly in bed and rested her head in her hand, making space next to her. 

“Are you okay?” Harry sounded a bit concerned.

“I’m fine, Harry. Come here,” she said and patted on her bed indicating that she wanted him to come. He seemed a bit reluctant. Still, he abandoned his chair and slid in the bed, facing her. 

“So, what now?” She tried her best not to sound demanding. She just wanted to know where they stood.

“We could go down and get breakfast.” She saw he wasn’t being serious - the corners of his mouth twitched slightly. 

“Good try. I suppose I must say it then. Are we boyfriend and girlfriend?” He looked at her and seemed to be contemplating her question.

“If you want to. I know I’d love to.” His voice sounded timid.

“You know I want it.” 

“I like you a lot.” She wasn’t quite expecting him to say that but she couldn’t help but smiling.

“We aren’t moving too fast or anything?” The fear that she’d put him off, lingered in her.

“I’m not going to ask you to marry me right away.” She giggled.

“I hope not.”

“And … there’s … well, I can’t promise anything about the future. With … Volde … I mean You-Know-Who and all.”

“I know, Harry, and you can call him Voldemort. I don’t mind. Maybe because I know just how evil he is. I know what to fear and it’s not his name.” He nodded.

“So we just take what the future brings us.” 

“ Right.” 

“Good.” He smiled. “But what do you suppose happened to Hermione?”

“Obvious, isn’t it? I think she and my brother finally figured things out.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. How do you think they’ll react when they know about us?”

“Don’t worry about that. Ron might say something, being the stupid git he is, but I can handle him. No problem.” There was no need to discuss the matter any further. She turned to her back and pulled him with her so he was on the top of her. They stared at each other for a moment till he reached down and kissed her. A soft, fluttery kiss. Nice - but she wanted more. Much more. Harry didn’t know what hit him when she grabbed his head and kissed him hard. Still he didn’t seem to mind.

 

~~~

 

Hermione wasn’t sure if she was awake or sleeping but that didn’t matter for she felt like a stampede of erumpents had run her over several times. As she slowly opened her eyes, an orange brightness hit them. It didn’t take her long to realize that she was in Ron’s room and that he was currently fast asleep besides her. The events of the night before slowly came to her and to her horror, she recalled how she had behaved. The drinking, the flirting, the dancing and then kissing Ron and touching him. She groaned and hid her face in the pillow. Thankfully Ron had stopped her before she did something that she would have really regretted, though she doubted they would have gone far. What had happened downstairs would have interrupted that in some way. Oh god, that had been horrible and it had been all too much for her after the drinking. She had started sobbing hysterically afterwards and Ron had brought her up to his room, wrapped her in a blanket and laid her in his bed. He had intended to sleep on Harry’s bed but she had asked him to hold her for a little while. That little while had turned into the whole night. It didn’t feel so awkward. Maybe it even felt a little bit right.

She really didn’t feel well, she had a throbbing headache and she felt a little sick. Maybe she could crawl over Ron without waking him and get to the bathroom but somehow he had his foot over hers and moving it would probably wake him up. The only way was to have him turn on his other side in his sleep. She tried to hold him and turn him with her but just as she thought she had settled him on his other side, he opened his eyes.

“Good morning, Hermione,” he said in a raspy voice. She smiled weakly and turned away from him. 

“You okay?” He sounded concerned. She didn’t say anything but got up from the bed.

“Hermione, where are you going?”

“The bathroom,” she murmured because she felt really sick now and she felt dizzy. The hallway seemed to be spinning and she almost lost her footing. Still she managed to make it to the bathroom. She dropped to her knees besides the toilet bowl and gagged. She couldn't recall ever feeling this awful. Just as she was becoming convinced that her insides were turning inside out, she felt something cold on her forehead while her hair was being pushed from her face.

“It’s okay. You just had too much to drink. You’ll feel better once you stop.” It was Ron! Ron was holding a cold towel to her forehead and pulling her hair back so she wouldn’t vomit in it. If she wasn’t dying already, she would die of mortification right now. He was watching her being all icky and definitely regretting very much kissing her. Still there was something reassuring in the way he stroked her hair back. 

It was over fairly quickly and she got up on shaky feet. Without saying anything, Ron had led to the sink and handed her a toothbrush and toothpaste. After having brushed her teeth and freshened up, she whispered her thanks to Ron and turned away.

“Wait, Hermione.” He said hurriedly. “I wanted …” She turned back, expecting that he would say that it would just be best for them to remain friends or something.

“I … you … you know … like you.” He looked almost terrified. She was stunned. He liked her even after she had just vomited. Oh, this wasn’t the right time to start crying but still the tears were burning in the corners of her eyes. With small sniffle, she looked up at him and tried to smile.

“I like you too, Ron.”

 

~~~

 

She … she liked him too. That crazy girl that he had to take care off just few minutes before. There she stood all pale with her hair as wild as it had ever been and his heart was exploding. He couldn’t just stand there and let her go. Suddenly, he brought his right hand to her hair while his left hand was on her shoulder. 

“You have the prettiest eyes,” he said. Her eyes grew bigger and he saw she had tears in them. All he could do was to bring his lips to her cheeks and kiss the tears away. He couldn’t help it, otherwise she might start to cry and he couldn’t possibly handle that.

When he had wiped away her tears, she buried her face in his chest and they stood embracing each other for a while. Ron kept wondering how this had happened. He felt like he had liked Hermione for eons and the possibility that they would ever be like this, become a couple, had hardly occurred to him. Hermione sighed and she shifted against him. This was like some kind of torture, he couldn’t take more of it. He bent down and caught her lips with his own. Her mouth was a bit cold and he felt the stinging mint taste of her toothpaste, but it was Hermione. As to remind him exactly of that, she pressed to him and snaked her arms around his neck. Kissing her was something he could imagine doing forever. 

Despite his imagination, he broke the kiss fairly soon.

“Should we go downstairs for breakfast?” She nodded and then mentioned that she might need a dressing gown, she was still in her dress from last night. By some stroke of lock, they had taken her dressing gown with them to Ron’s room. 

There was no need to worry because the only people awake downstairs were Harry and Ginny.

“Good morning,” said Ginny and smiled impishly at them. 

“Good morning to you.” She was one to talk or not to talk because it looked like she was holding hands with Harry under the table. Well, he could tease them about it later. 

“So how did you sleep, Harry?” But Harry didn’t seem unnerved by the question.

“Okay, I slept on a chair. My neck feels a bit stiff.” He brought a hand to his neck. It looked like he was telling the truth. Meanwhile Ginny had offered Hermione some toast. 

“No thank you. I don’t think I’d be able to keep it down.” 

“Not even dry toast?”

“Especially not dry toast.” He couldn’t resist but to put an arm around Hermione and hug her tight. Harry and Ginny sniggered but it was okay. For at the moment, everything felt okay.

 

~~~ 

 

George hadn’t slept all night. He wasn’t sure if he should blame the living room sofa or that he had a lot of things on his mind. The events of last night stood clear but what weighed heaviest was Parvati. There was a sharp sting in his stomach every time he thought about her. He had broken her heart and he knew how it felt. What had happened last summer stood very clear in his heart and now he had caused such pain to another. Never before had he been so angry at himself. Still what was he supposed to do? Rushing into some relationship wasn’t an option. Perhaps, if he got to know Parvati as a friend, then maybe he could make amends.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a scratching sound outside the window. There was a large owl there, carrying a letter. He went to open the window to let the owl in but it just hovered in the window, extending its leg so he could get the letter it was carrying. 

The letter was addressed to him. In a very familiar feminine hand. He tore the letter open and read:

 

Dear George

 

I somewhat feel like a character in my favourite Muggle book when he has to write a letter to the girl that refused his proposal the night before. Unlike in the book, there is no slant for me to correct. Things are very simple, I sent you a ton of anonymous letters and thought you would fall head over heels in love with me. Obviously I was wrong and I apologize from the bottom of my heart. This was all very foolish of me. 

Yet I hope that we can become friends. I promise that I won’t, what can I say, make any advances. I think you are really funny and I do believe that we might have things in common. So, see you in school and because I didn’t have the opportunity to wish you a happy new year before, Happy New Year!

 

Love

Parvati.

 

With the letter still open in his hands, he let out a chuckle. He felt relieved thought he wasn’t completely over his guilt and funnily enough, he looked forward to talk to her. She was, after all, a very pretty girl. 

He got to his feet. There were probably a bit more tidying up to do and he could swear that he smelled toast. Breakfast was something he could do with very well at the moment.

 

~~~

 

There was something warm and heavy lying on Fred’s chest. It didn’t take him long to realize what it was, even without opening his eyes. It was Angelina and when he opened his eyes, he saw this was what he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life. What was better yet, he didn’t have hurry to get up. After the commotion of last night, most of the people wanted to go home right away. That was good because no one had been in the mood for more party. It took surprisingly little time to clear the Burrow of the crowd that had gathered there. Everyone had just grabbed their Portkey and left.

As for the attacker, he and George followed him out to see if they’d be able to catch him. They saw him in a distance, running and they cursed their slow reflexes. When they were returning inside, they found someone lying outside under a tree. It was Lee, but he was out cold. They were able to revive them and Lee told them he’d been knocked out by someone he didn’t see. Someone, probably Hermione, had suggested that the attacker must have used Polyjuice Potion. Still his identity was unknown. Ron insisted it had been Draco Malfoy but they could never be sure. Lee, on the other hand, after hearing what had happened, wanted to go home and sleep. No one blamed him.

As for the cleaning, Percy had done most of that, using magic. When his brothers had expressed their astonishment, he told them that this was in exchange for their silence about the attack. Their mother was never to hear about it. Fred considered it to be a very fair exchange because he had no desire to let their mother or their father know a single thing about that night. Percy made them also promise that they would never throw a party in Burrow again without their parents’ consent. Fred knew that they all counted it as a blessing that their parents wouldn’t be back until the afternoon. Thank Merlin that Auntie always insisted that her guests stayed the night.

Angelina stirred and lifted her head up.

"Good morning, angel," he said, smiling. She lifted her eyebrows, looking a bit groggy.

“Mmmm, I’m sleepy.” 

“I wasn’t waking you up.”

“I know.” She turned on her side. “I’m just not used to this.”

“I hope you will be.” He started tracing her cheeks and mouth with his hand.

“Oh, I’m counting on it actually.” 

He kissed her for that. It couldn’t be avoided, there she was telling him that yes, she wanted to wake up with him every morning and his heart was almost exploding of happiness. 

“Would you, when we are finished with Hogwarts, want to live with me perhaps?” She didn’t answer him right away. Just stared at him for a minute.

“Does this include George?” She finally asked.

“What do you mean? That George will live with us? I kind of assumed that.”

“Fred, I’m not sure if I would handle that. Still, I want to live with you.” Fred frowned, he had obviously not thought it through. He and George had talked about living together on their own ever since they first thought of starting a joke shop. It was something he would love to do but he wanted also to have Angelina with him. This was a dilemma.

“Okay, let’s think about it for a while and perhaps discuss it with George?” She nodded.

“You know that we have other things to worry about, like Quidditch and the N.E.W.T.s.” He laughed, she was ambitious and it made him feel good that it was a trait they shared. 

“I know, angel.”

“Yeah, but are you aware?”

“Damn you woman.”

“You wish.”

She grinned, a wide satisfied grin. Why was she so irresistible? He couldn’t help but kiss her, positively rain her with kisses. They were in no hurry.

 

~~~

 

The apartment was dark. Marcus hadn’t turned on the light at all. He sat in a huddle on the floor and felt like he would never get up. Suspended in a limbo, it was how he assessed his situation. He had now taken a step from the darkness but he was nowhere near the light and perhaps he didn’t intend to head in that direction. 

He wasn’t worried that he’d compromised his status with the Death Eaters, he would just feed some story to Draco about the reasons why he failed with the Weasleys and no one else was supposed to know about it either. What worried him was that he was no longer sure if he wanted to participate in Death Eaters’ activity. He laughed out loud, a hoarse laughter, he made it sound like the Death Eaters were some kind of a hobby club. Something for bored Dark wizards to do with their time. Another hoarse laughter escaped him, was he to become some cynic that would survey his surroundings but never partake in any of it? He longed for a direction in any way.

Delilah would have laughed at him and told him to do what would serve him the best. Then again what did she know? She had been killed. 

Perhaps he should concentrate on one day at time. Take things like they were represented to him. Make a decision when he had to and not a moment before. Lay down all strategies. Maybe this was a way out of the limbo. A way to cut down on the uncertainty.

He had never known anyone that seemed to think that way. It was hardly the Slytherin way of thinking and not how a Quidditch player would think. Yet it didn’t make him fearful. What had he to lose? His life? It wasn’t much good to him at the moment and if he were to lose it, well, he could blame himself. 

Strange how things sometimes ended. He had changed. But it was easy for him to ignore what had happened. Fate either had a funny humour or just simply didn’t exist.


End file.
